


My First Girlfriend

by Tasha_T



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Humor, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28459017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasha_T/pseuds/Tasha_T
Summary: It was a complete misunderstanding.  Mia had it in her head that Emily was interested in her.  Sure, Mia was nice and fun to be around . . . but that just wasn't who Emily was.  Now if only she could find a way to tell Mia . . . without being a total bitch.
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

I know I have a bit of an obsessive personality. I’ve always been like that. It’s been helpful at time – people comment on my persistence – but at other times it’s just makes me feel like I’m acting crazy. 

I can be obsessive about my stuff at the office – no one had better steal my pen or touch my stapler. I can get obsessive about assignments. Sometimes I’ll stay until all hours of the night digging into something that has gotten my attention – once it was only thirty-seven cents, but it still drove me crazy. 

I’m not exactly obsessively neat – there’s something I could stand to get obsessive about, particularly at home. But I do have particular places for everything in my kitchen and it drives me crazy when someone – and by someone, I mean my mother – moves stuff around to their ‘proper places’. My mom’s words. Grrr!

One of the quirkier things I’m obsessed about – and one I don’t typically share with anyone – are boobs. Sure, that would be normal for a sixteen year old guy, but I’m a twenty three year old woman! 

Now when I say I’m obsessed with boobs, its mostly that I would like to have some for myself, and I really don’t. I’m your typical Asian-American – petite and cute (so I’ve been told) and in my particular case, pretty flat chested. 

Rationally, I know it hasn’t really affected me – certainly no more so than being a woman and being Asian-American. I have no issues attracting men. When I go out to the clubs with my girlfriends, I know there are always guys who want to dance with me or buy me a drink – or maybe do even more than that. 

And it’s not like I’m a shy, wall-flower type who’s lacking in self-confidence or anything. I co-captained our senior varsity soccer and basketball teams in high school, and was generally pretty comfortable around all my peers.

But I still remember my last couple years in junior high school, when all of my friends suddenly seemed to be out-growing their bras and stretching the seams on their tops (unfortunately, my year didn’t seem to have any late bloomers). 

All these girls were so thrilled – they were women now! They couldn’t wait to show them off. And they were all so amused to discover the way the guys – even the older guys – seemed to notice them now when they walked into a room. Yes, they were all so excited by these new ‘developments’.

With me, it was like waiting for a bus that just never came. 

Sure, rationally I know something like the size of your boobs doesn’t matter and shouldn’t bother me. Yeah, sure, high school is always a difficult and sometimes an awkward time for anyone. I know this. And now that I’m an adult, these insecurities – or whatever – should be well behind me. I know all that – rationally.

But that really doesn’t change the way I feel. I know I’ve had it in my head through school and college, that as soon as I have the money, I won’t be looking to buy a car or clothes or fancy electronics. Nope, for me my first order of business, as an employed and responsible adult, will be to get a boob job. 

I’m not really sure how exactly I’ll explain it to my mom and my nana, but I know that won’t stop me.

So as a result of my little obsession, I find myself occasionally ‘checking out the merchandise,’ so to say, on other women I see. I try to be subtle, but I’ve gotten a few odd looks when maybe I’ve let my eyes linger too long. 

My best friend, Amy, calls me a perv and on more than one occasion has suggested my ‘boob job’ story is just a cover and that I’m actually just into boobs, or women, or both. I’ve tried to reassure her that I’m as straight as they come, but she certainly seems sceptical. She has mentioned to me once or twice that she has a cute cousin – female, of course – that might be my ‘type.’ Just to mess with her, I asked what her boobs looked like. Fun!

So that’s where my story starts.

Actually, it starts Saturday morning at the local fitness center, where I was taking spin classes. 

Fall was here, so there was no more bike riding, golf or tennis for me. I liked being active, but I had trouble getting excited about things like running on a treadmill or swimming. So I’d signed up for a spin class. 

It was my third class, and I discovered that on Saturday’s there was a different instructor who ran it. Mia introduced herself at the start of the class and asked, “So is everybody here ready for a killer work out?” 

She seemed very energetic and bubbly, but the collective groan from the class when she’d shown up made me wonder if some of the people knew something I didn’t. It really didn’t matter to me, though. I love pushing myself, and I was confident I could take whatever she might dish out. I soon found out I was a little bit wrong on that account. 

The other two classes had been a leisurely ride through the countryside compared to what this crazy woman had in store for us. Soon I was panting and really having to strain to keep up with the pace she was setting. 

I found it plenty hard, but I was better than most. It seemed about half the class just gave up, cranked their tension down, and started coasting rather than trying to keep pace. 

Mia regularly had us up on our feet, our tensions set high, pushing it as we did our ‘hill climbs’. I found when she did that, she leaned forward over her bike and lo and behold, she gave us a perfect view of her rather nice, round boobs. 

Probably this was what kept some of these guys coming back to her class for what seemed like clear torture. 

With me pedalling and feeling tired, I think I was looking for something to focus on to distract myself from the burning and pain in my legs and my lungs. My eyes seemed to lock onto those boobs. I mean, she was right there at the front of the class, so I was facing her the whole time. And given my particular obsession, I guess it was sort of a natural thing for me to do. 

I didn’t even know I was doing it until suddenly I realized Mia was looking at me . . . and giving me a big, friendly smile. Even then it took a few seconds for it to dawn on me. God, I’d spent half the class ‘checking out’ her boobs. 

Apparently she was okay with that, but I was definitely flustered. 

I tried looking away, but it was like one of those situations where someone points out an ugly zit on a person’s face and tells you not to look. Let’s face it, you don’t want to look at it. You certainly know you shouldn’t stare at it, but just knowing its there and you’re not allowed to stare almost seems to draw your eyes. 

Yeah, that was me. As I continued to work, my eyes kept wandering back to Mia’s ever-present boobs, and every time I did, she seemed to be looking right back at me, smiling. Awkward!

As much as I loved the class – I really do love it when I’m forced to push my limits – I couldn’t wait for it to end so I could slink out of there. The redness in my face wasn’t just from the exertion, that was for sure. 

When we were done our cool down and the class ended, I bolted. I only gave Mia a quick glance and was relieved to see she was being accosted by a couple of the guys from the class who no doubt thought they had a chance with her. 

I cleaned out my locker in record time and rushed out of the fitness center. It was crazy, I know. It’s not like she was going to attack me. The worst she could do was talk to me and I could make it clear that I loved her class, but that was it. 

It’s not like I hadn’t had to let down plenty of guys in my time. So I’m not sure why I was acting like such a chicken and running away. Maybe just some more of my ‘crazy’ genes showing themselves.

Anyway, I walked down the block, still sweating. A real attractive look, I’m sure. Usually I take time to cool down at the fitness center, but not today. Yep, totally crazy. 

There was a little coffee shop on the corner that I’d noticed when I’d signed up at the fitness center. I popped in there and as a reward for my hard workout, I ordered myself a nice big coffee and an equally big raspberry scone. No point keeping those calories off for too long. That would just make my skin all loose and flabby looking, I’m sure.

When my coffee was ready I grabbed it, doctored it up appropriately with a dollop of healthy cream and a good serving of sugar, and found a nice quiet spot to enjoy myself. 

I took that first sip, sighed, and closed my eyes, just relishing the moment. I really do love my coffee in the morning. 

I was finally starting to cool down and relax when I heard a cheery voice almost right beside me say, “Hey there. How did you like the class this morning?”

My stomach felt like it dropped from a hundred feet – like when Amy had convinced me to go on that ‘drop of doom’ ride at Nine Flags – and my face reddened immediately. 

I didn’t need to look up to know who’s voice that was. My initial response was something close to total panic, but then I took a breath and got a grip on myself. 

“What’s the big deal,” I asked myself, and slowly turned and looked up. I’m not really sure how successful my little pep talk was, because my stomach still felt sketchy and my face I knew was still a lovely shade of red. I was hoping that in the dim corner of the cafe I’d claimed for myself it wouldn’t be quite so obvious. 

Thank God, Mia had on a warm up jacket. No bulging boobs to distract me or draw my eyes. I wondered, though, if she’d seen me glance in that direction. 

Great, the first place my eyes go was to her chest. I really was turning into a sixteen year old boy! 

When I finally got my brain back on line, I saw that she was smiling down at me. At least she wasn’t gawking like she’d just realized I was totally unstable and probably due back at some psych ward – no doubt one for deviant sexual offenders. 

She kept right on smiling . . . until I realized she’d actually asked me a question. Okay, no worries about her possibly having some kind of interest in me. My best defense for discouraging anything further between us, apparently, was for me to just keep being me! God, I was hopeless. 

Finally I managed to say, “Good.” 

That probably was an adequate response. Any normal person would have left it at that. But I didn’t. I can only guess what that says about how ‘normal’ I am. Yep, the whole ‘crazy’ thing kicked in and I just started babbling.

“Yeah, the class was good . . . no, great, actually. It was hard, you know. Really hard. You worked us really hard. I like hard classes, though, you know. It’s good you worked us hard. I needed a hard workout. I really did . . . .”

I was doing my very convincing ‘idiot’ impersonation, and to be honest, I didn’t really understand it. Usually when I slipped into that mode I knew exactly why. 

But if I thought my idiot routine would put Mia off, I was totally wrong. She was grinning down at me and then started laughing as I babbled. 

“You’re so cute,” she finally said, giving me this huge smile that seemed to come as much from her sparkling eyes as her lips. Her whole face lit up. I had to admit, it felt oddly good to have such an open, joyous look thrown at me. 

But her words . . . and her look . . . seemed to freeze me – especially my brain. I just sat there looking up at her, not sure what to say or do. 

She continued staring down at me with that adoring, ‘ooh, you’re such a cute, fluffy little puppy’ look. 

After a few long seconds she glanced away and said, “I’m going to grab a coffee and then can I join you?” 

She took a quick step towards the counter, hesitated, turned back, brushed her hair back with her hand, even though it was no where’s near long enough to actually be in her eyes, let out a cute little almost embarrassed laugh, gave me a shy little smile and asked, “You don’t mind if I join you, do you?” 

I was on auto pilot. I just nodded and said, “Sure.” That was the polite thing to say, right?

She beamed down at me again and quickly turned back to the counter, almost skipping as she went . . . although maybe I imagined that part. 

I immediately gave myself a mental head slap. What the hell I was doing? 

Should I have said I had to run and then taken off? Probably. Should I have said I was meeting a friend . . . or my mother . . . or my boyfriend? That would have been smart. Should I have invited her to join me? Well, duh! Definitely not.

I should have made it clear she really wasn’t my type or whatever was the appropriate thing to say in a situation like this Was this really a situation even? 

I glanced over. Mia was at the counter ordering, but as soon as she was done she turned back my way. And what did she see? Well, me staring over at her, of course. 

She gave me that big smile and a little wave. 

Okay, yeah, this really was a situation. The question was, what was I going to do now? 

I hated being a total bitch. Oh, don’t get me wrong, if it’s called for, I can be the biggest bitch you’ve ever seen. 

In this situation, though, it just seem a little unnecessary. I mean, it’s not like she was doing anything horrible or wrong. And to be honest, who really started the whole thing. Yep, that would be me, staring at her boobs like they were a pair of nice tasty melon that I wanted to devour! 

Yeah, I did want them badly, just not in the way she thought. I wanted those melons for me, so other people would stare at mine when I biked and not be able to take their eyes off of them. So shallow, I know.

But she seemed so nice – and hey, I did like people thinking I was as cute as a fluffy little puppy. Who wouldn’t! 

So I figured there had to be a way to get myself out of this mess without resorting to my inner bitch. If I could just make her see this as an innocent mistake . . . one that I didn’t really mind, of course. Hey, I could even let her know I was flattered. After all, she was an attractive woman. Yeah, something like that would work, I was sure. If only I could figure out how to say all that.

I’m not sure if other people’s brains work like mine – I really hope not, to be honest – but I have this bitchy, personal devil lurking somewhere deep in my head who pops up every now and then just to mess with me. I’m sure she thinks she’s very clever and amusing, but she drives me crazy (crazier??).

I even had a name for her – it’s Druzilla – after this evil little bitch I had the displeasure of knowing since kindergarten (okay . . . not her real name . . . but it should have been). In the second week of school she stuck gum in my hair and then told the teacher I had been chewing it in class, which of course wasn’t allowed. It’s a long and torturous tale that I don’t like to dwell on.

But of course this was the moment when this devil’s spawn, Druzilla, decided to pop up and toss in her two cents worth, just to confuse me further. “She’s actually pretty hot,” she whispered. “Maybe you should give her a try. It’s not like you’re killing it with the guys these days. You just never know. After all, she’s actually read the owner’s manual . . . so she knows how all your parts work.”

That last bit was a shout out to my equally obsessive father. For everything new we ever bought – from cars to electronics to his wrist watch – he felt he had to study the manual as if he was going to be a tested in detail on its contents. He often tried to instill the same craziness in me, but I was all full up with craziness of my own, thank you very much.

I had the devil Druzilla’s unhelpful words bouncing around in my head just as Mia returned and pulled up a seat. So much for getting my act together and coming up with a plan to get myself out of this mess. I guess I was just going to have to wing it. How could that possibly go wrong?

And worst of all, Mia was still giving me that big beaming smile. Who wouldn’t love to have someone smile at them like that? I mean, really? It just makes you feel all warm and gushy inside, like the world’s just discovered – finally – what a amazing person you are.

And when someone makes you feel that way, well, you don’t really want to shatter their image of you. After all, she was clearly getting me. I don’t know what the problem was with everyone else!

So now I was back to where I started. My mind was mush and I had no idea exactly how I was going to tell this person that maybe she’d gotten the wrong idea about me.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So what, you’re going on a date with her?” Amy asked, a little incredulously. “And my cousin’s just wasn’t good enough for you,” I heard her mutter. 

Amy was my best friend, my former college roommate, and by some freaky coincidence, now also my co-worker. She was probably the person who knew more about me than anybody – which was maybe good and bad. But I trusted her with all my craziness, and she’d never let me down.

We’d had plans to get together Saturday afternoon for a late lunch, a bit of shopping, and as it turned out, a bit of sharing about my latest ‘situation’.

Amy was always one to speak her mind. That was sometimes good, but this time I was not quite so pleased.

I gave her my ‘dead eye’ look for her second comment (always with the cousin!), and for her first I offered up a, “No,” in protested. But was I really sure?

“It’s not a date,” I said, probably way too defensively. “We’re just going to the Met. You know how I’ve always wanted to go there? Right?” I’m sure I had mentioned it. Maybe.

Amy gave me a skeptical look. But I really had always wanted to go to the Met. It was one of the world’s great art museums. Who wouldn’t want to go there. Well, I hoped Amy didn’t have a long held desire to go there, because I wasn’t going with her.

Yeah, things at the coffee shop hadn’t gone as planned. Although since I really had nothing resembling a plan, maybe I couldn’t even say that. 

Mia and I had talked. Eventually I managed to get my brain going and was able to string meaningful sentences together. That would have been the time to set things straight. But by then, well, I kind of found I liked Mia.

Not that way! I still wasn’t there! But she was bubbly and funny and intelligent and I enjoyed just talking with her. She made me laugh. And maybe I enjoyed the way she looked at me. A little bit. Doesn’t everyone love being adored, even if you know its under false pretenses. Does that make me shallow or desperate or something?

We were there for more than an hour, just chatting. Finally she told me she had to run. She had a ‘thing’ with her mother. There was an involuntary eye roll as she said it – I could relate!

She had gathered her stuff up and looked like she was ready to go when she paused. She looked over at me, kind of shyly, and asked, “Are you up to anything tomorrow afternoon. I’m free, and I was thinking of going down to the Met. I love it there. I can wander around for hours. If you wanted to join me, that’d be great.” 

Her words came in a rush, like she was trying to get them out before she lost them . . . or lost her nerve. For the last part – asking whether I’d like to join her – she’d looked up and held my eyes. 

I could see the uncertainty in her face. That frightening instant when you put yourself out there, and despite everything you think you know about the person across from you, you realize maybe you were mistaken and you’re about to get disappointed and embarrassed. I’ve been in that boat. I think most people have and can easily relate. 

I could tell Mia was feeling vulnerable, and I really don’t want to hurt her. I’d enjoyed talking and hanging out with her . . . even if I knew I was being a total fraud and it would all come back to haunt me and I was going to hell. Yep, in spite of my best efforts, a little bit of my Catholic mother had found its way into me.

So what could I do? Besides, I’d always wanted to see the Met. Really! And a guided tour would be nice. 

Actually, I thought it was brilliant, because that would give me time to plan and to figure out the best way to tell her the truth. Since I really did enjoy her company, maybe I could even come up with a way where we could stay friends. How cool would I be then, having a lesbian friend?


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up early the next morning. Okay, it was ten o’clock, but in my defense, it was Sunday and given that, it certainly wasn’t late for me.

As I lay there, trying to decide whether to actually get up or to roll over and spend some more quality time with my pillow, some conscious thoughts somehow seeped into my head. 

I guess I’m generally an optimist, so I started with the good stuff . . . my dreams.

I’m not usually the type of person who remembers their dreams. When I wake up I usually feel some sense of the kind of dream it was – happy, sad, funny or whatever – but I rarely remember the specifics. 

That morning I woke up feeling good . . . and I actually remembered a few brief scenes from my dreams. 

I remembered riding my bike down my favorite pathway, with the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. That’s when I noticed Mia was there riding beside me (was she on a stationary bike? Weird). She was smiling and laughing and it seemed like we were enjoying ourselves. Then, as can only happen in a dream, I was suddenly at work. Amy was there and I think maybe she was telling me about her cousin’s boobs. That part was also weird. But then Mia walked by and gave me a smile and a little wave – sort of like at the coffee shop. I remember it made me feel good, seeing her. End of scene. 

I sensed Mia might have made another couple of guest appearances, but I couldn’t remember clearly.

I did wake up feeling happy, though. That was until reality found me again.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised Mia would pop up in my dreams. I’d spent the rest of Saturday worrying about my predicament with her. I had upgraded it from a situation to a predicament. 

I’d gone to bed still thinking about it, trying to come up with some clever plan to get myself out of this mess without making an even bigger mess. Nothing had come to me. I’d thought maybe a good night’s sleep would clear the fog from my brain and reveal an obvious solution. Now that I was awake, though, the only thing that was obvious was that some miracle solution to my problems hadn’t magically materialized during the night. Darn!

And so reality had rudely invaded my early (??) morning. I knew there would be no getting back to sleep now, so I figured I’d best get up and face the day . . . in spite of my deep concerns about how this day was going to play out.

I brewed a coffee (good), dug a piece of chocolate cake out of my fridge that my mother had given me a week ago (yum – even if it was a little stale) and curled up on the couch in the sun. I enjoyed ten minutes of peaceful bliss – in a deep Zen-like state – where I was above all the problems of the world. It was a refreshing break that came to a jarring end when my phone rang.

I could tell from the ring tone it was my mother. I tried to shrink back into my Zen state, but the phone rang again and I knew there was no hope. It rang a third time and I finally grabbed it and answered it. 

I loved my mother very much, but I didn’t always love talking to her. Somehow, though, I found dealing with a message was even worse – particularly when I purposely let it go to voice mail. It was like she could infect her messages with an extra dose of guilt and disappointed, and I didn’t even get a chance to defend myself.

So I picked up. “Hello, Mom,” I said, trying to sound cheery.

“Emily, are you alone? Did I call at a bad time?” Typical mom. One sentence in and I was already on the defensive.

Even as I was saying, “No, it’s fine,” I considered saying “Yeah, I’ve got a couple of guys over and I hear them starting to stir. I’d better go see what Greg and Tyson . . . or was that Tyler . . . ? This is so embarrassing! Oh well, typical Saturday night.”

It’s always fun to fantasize. Of course while I was having my fun my mother was having hers, saying, “Well, a mother can hope. Are you seeing anyone these days? Have you gone out on any dates lately?”

I wanted to say, “Yes, I had one yesterday after my spin class, and we’re getting together this afternoon for another one. Her name’s Mia and she’s really wonderful. I’m sure you’ll love her.”

Now that would silence my mother, I’m sure! But I was in no way prepared for the conversation that comment would bring. So instead I just fell back on my usual, boring response. 

“I’m kind of busy with work, mom. I’m keeping my eyes open, though. And once I’m a more established, then I can worry a little more about dating.”

Yep, this whole conversation was like watching a rerun, only one you’ve seen, like, a hundred times. My mother’s phone calls had a standard pattern – check to see if I’m seeing anyone (would I even tell her if I was?), comment how sad it is that I can’t find a good man (trust me, there is definitely a shortage), tell me about my sister’s wonderful new boyfriend (though, really, if they’re all so wonderful, why does she seem to have a new one every other week!), give me any dirt she’s dug up on our relatives and/or neighbors (okay, this part I usually don’t mind), remind me that my clock is ticking and I shouldn’t put off my personal life too much longer (did I mention I’m twenty-three!!), and then tell me why she’s actually called. 

On this occasion, it was to invite me over for dinner on Monday. It seemed that some cousin of my father’s was in town and so they were gathering the family. I told her I’d be a dutiful daughter and be there, ready to chow down on mom’s home cooking and to box up any leftovers I could get my hands on. Well, the last part went unsaid, but I’m sure it was implied in the invitation.

When I finally said good bye my phone told me we’d been on almost an hour. It was past eleven now and I had made no progress on my Mia situation . . . or was that a predicament?

I’d told Mia I’d meet her at the Met at two. I figured it would take me a good hour or more to get there. So how much time did that give me? I wasn’t always so good at managing my time, as much as I tried. Time was another of those things that I should have been obsessive about . . . but I wasn’t necessarily. So sometimes I ran a little late . . . even though I hated when other people were late. Yeah, okay, I’m a hypocrite. Add it to my list of faults.

For the hundredth time I considered just standing Mia up. That was so rude, though. I knew that no matter how troubled I was about this whole thing, I’d feel horrible if I did something like that. Especially to someone as nice as Mia. I did have some empathy, after all. 

I figured I could plan while I was getting ready. So I jumped in the shower. I don’t know why, but I felt I had to shave my pits. They were long overdue, but still. Did I really need to? It didn’t matter, because I did. And my legs too! OCD is a horrible thing!

When I was done I went to my dresser. I dug through my panties until I found my favorite pair. They were lilac and sexy and they looked good on me. “My lucky panties,” I thought to myself as I picked them up. 

Then I froze. “Lucky panties!” What the heck was I doing! I tossed them back in the drawer like they were on fire. This wasn’t an occasion for “lucky panties!” I needed to get a grip on myself.

I grabbed the first pair of panties from the top of the pile – a plain beige pair. “These will do,” I thought. “I don’t need anything special. I’m just going to the museum. With a friend. A woman. A woman friend. That doesn’t call for lucky panties.”

Okay, I was getting things under control. I slipped on the panties. But then I made the mistake of glancing down at them. These panties really weren’t very nice. They looked like something my Nana might wear. These were comfy panties, not going out panties. 

I heaved a sigh in frustration and turned back to my dresser. A minute later I had on a pair of dainty white panties with little pink flowers on them. And a matching bra. These were nice panties. Not “lucky panties,” mind you, but nice panties. It was important that I felt good about myself, I was thinking. I needed to be sharp. On the ball. I didn’t want to be distracted or get sidetracked . . . by having to worry about my panties. 

I know. That didn’t even make sense to me, but I just left it. I am what I am . . . it doesn’t have to be logical or reasonable!

I grabbed a pair of jeans and a baggy sweater from my closet. I no sooner had them on than I glanced at myself in my full length mirror. I heaved another sigh and started peeling them off. I headed back to the closet. 

What look was I going for? Definitely not hot and sexy, I knew . . . but not dumpy either. I wanted something in the middle. A nice looking outfit, but nothing that said, “I got all dressed up just to impress you.” 

This was much harder with a woman. You just assumed guys wouldn’t notice anything if it wasn’t skin tight or totally revealing. Everything else, no matter how cool or trendy or otherwise awesome didn’t even register with them.

With women, on the other hand, you wanted to dress nice, because you knew they’d notice. It was tricky, though, hitting that sweet spot that was nice and fashionable, without seeming to suggest something more. I knew it wasn’t usually a problem I considered, but in this case I figured I had to.

I swear, I tried on a dozen different combinations. I don’t work this hard on a real date! I kept stopping and telling myself, “You’re just getting together with a friend. There shouldn’t be any stress with that.” Then I’d take another look at what I was wearing, let out a frustrated little shriek, and peel it off.

I knew my time was starting to get short, so I shored up my resolve. Hey, I thrive under pressure – although this whole current situation seemed to be proving that thought to be a lie. I had to pick and just go with it. 

In the end I settled on a nice silky red top that I thought looked good on me, and a pair of ‘snug’ fitting jeans. Nothing too sexy and revealing – okay, maybe the jeans did look like they were painted on over my ass, but I’m sure that was fine.

I looked in the mirror and felt satisfied. Perfect. I was ready. Of course I had to add some earrings . . . and a necklace . . . and some bracelets. And some lip gloss and mascara. And I did a little something with my hair. And then grabbed my favorite knee high boots, because I loved how they looked. 

Okay, I know it might seem like I was getting all dressed up for Mia. But like I said, I wanted to look good so I’d feel confident. Then I’d be more relaxed and able to breeze my way through the day and resolve this little misunderstanding. I’m sure by the end of the afternoon both of us would be laughing at the whole mix up.

I finally headed out. I was late, but it really wasn’t my fault. It was actually a reasonably nice day, so I decided to walk to the train station. It wasn’t that far, but when I was just about there I saw the train pulling out. That meant I’d have to wait another fifteen minutes.

It was a good thing Mia had given me her number when we’d made these plans at the coffee shop the day before. And not wanting to be rude, I’d given her my number too. Another good reason not to stand her up.

I shot her a quick text saying I’d missed my train and was running late. She almost immediately sent back a “K. See u soon,” with a smiley face and a happy puppy emoji. That made me smile. It kind of made me feel we were on the same wavelength. I told you she got me.


	3. Chapter 3

I was maybe fifteen. . . okay, more like twenty minutes late by the time I came rushing up to the front of the Met. I’d tried running from the train station, but I discovered my boots really weren’t made for that. I’d power walked instead, wishing all the while I could be taking my time and enjoying the weather and the scenery. 

I reached the front of the building a little flustered and short of breath. I looked around and didn’t see Mia anywhere. I wondered if she’d gotten tired of waiting for me and taken off. Or, worse yet, if she thought I’d stood her up and left. 

I felt this tightness in my chest. Yeah, sometimes I have this over-developed sense of empathy. Or more likely I just don’t like others thinking badly of me. Especially when I actually didn’t do anything to deserve it. Trust me, there’s enough times when I deserve other’s disdain, so I don’t like getting it when I’m perfectly innocent.

I was maybe feeling a little frantic. Of course, the front of the Met is huge. It stretches a city block or more and has big pillars and lots of people. I took a deep breath to calm myself and then took another, more careful look. 

Sure, Mia wasn’t standing right by the doors, but there were lots of other places she could be. I ran my eyes right, scanning more slowly, and then left. When I finally saw her, propped up against one of the pillars looking down at her phone, I felt a huge wave of relief. 

I’d just started in her direction when she raised her head. Her eyes fell on me and I saw that huge smile spread across her face again. Yes, images of adorable, fluffy puppies and other super cute things filled my head. I found myself grinning back at her. It was infectious. That smile just made me feel good. Nothing weird about that.

“Hey,” she said as we approached each other. 

“I’m so sorry,” I started, but before I could get anymore out she waved me off. 

“Don’t worry,” she said. “You’re here now.” All the while she was looking straight at me with those sparkling eyes and that big lovely smile. 

I actually found myself blushing a little just from the intensity of it. And maybe there was a little hint of guilt in there too. Did I really deserve that smile? Was I getting all these adoring looks under totally false pretenses? Was I ever going to find a way to tell her the truth? Did I even know what the truth was anymore? 

I wasn’t thinking I was suddenly into women. It just seemed more confusing than I thought it should be. Especially when you found someone who made you feel so happy and warm and . . . well, all nice and gushy inside. What did that mean? 

I had no clue, and I wasn’t getting a chance to think on it because Mia had grabbed my arm and was dragging me towards the entrance.

“I can’t believe anyone could live around here and never go to the Met,” she was gushing as I let her whisk me along. “This has got to be one of my favorite place to go in the whole world. I probably come here, maybe once a month and I think I find new things every time I do.”

She paused and glanced over at me, almost with a little trepidation. “I really hope you like it,” she said, and I could tell she really meant it. 

This was something that obviously meant a lot to her, and it kind of touched me that she so badly wanted me to feel the same about it. Pretty heavy pressure for a second date . . . even if it wasn’t really a date!

Something told me I was going to like it, though, even if it was only because I was there with Mia. Mia was just so bubbly and animated it was impossible not to just love her . . . you know, as a friend. She just had that type of irrepressible personality that drew you to her and made you smile and laugh. I couldn’t help feeling happy being around her.

Inside the building she led me to the right and in a second we were immersed in a collection of Egyptian artifacts. “Hard to believe these are a couple thousand years old,” she said as we looked at intricate carvings and statues.

I was honestly blown away. I guess I expected a museum to be just painting hanging on the wall, but this was like stepping back into ancient Egypt. There were buildings and carvings off of pyramids and mummies and beautifully fashioned coffins. There was even a whole temple that had been brought over piece by piece and reassembled in the museum.

I would have never guessed I’d be interested in this kind of stuff, but I was totally fascinated. And I wasn’t just putting on a show for Mia’s sake. A lot of it was amazing, especially when you considered, as Mia had said, that it was created ages ago. I didn’t even think they could have made such detailed pieces a hundred years ago. Shows what I know.

Mia was really in her element. She led me from display to display, showing me some of her favorites and giving me a running commentary as we went. I don’t think I could have gotten a better tour if I’d paid for it.

The Temple of Dendur was the temple that was brought over piece by piece. As we entered the room where it was housed, Mia told me, “It’s a little known fact that this temple was actually stolen from the Egyptians by US servicemen returning after World War II.” 

“It was built when Augustus Caesar ruled Egypt. General Patton was a big fan of Augustus, and when he heard that Augustus had attended ceremonies at this temple, he decided he had to have it. When his army pulled out after the war, Patton had his engineers disassemble the whole thing.” 

“So it wouldn’t be obvious what he was doing, he had his soldiers each take just one of the stones in their stuff when they returned home. He was going to have it reconstructed on his property when he got here.” 

“By the time the Egyptians found out about it, all the pieces were already on American soil. They raised a big stink, but the US government wasn’t in the mood to punish one of their war heroes. So they worked out a deal where Patton would give it to the museum and the Egyptians could claim they’d donated it to the US in appreciation for all they’d done in the war.”

I looked around at it, with something like awe on my face. “History was so interesting,” I thought, “when you have someone who could bring the stories behind it to life.”

I paused to read one of the little information plaques while Mia was looking at some carvings. I got half way through it and I paused. I had to re-read it. I looked up to find Mia looking over at me, a decidedly mischievous grin on her face. 

I put my hands on my hips and said to her, “That stuff about Patton was total shit.” Even to me I sounded like a pouty, petulant child. I felt like I should shake my fist and stomp my feet next.

Mia was starting to laugh out loud. 

Clearly the joke was on me. Maybe I wasn’t taking it the best. I pointed down at the plaque. “It says here that the temple was donated in 1968. Even I know that was after the war.”

Mia calmed herself down to a mere giggle. “Of course it says they donated it,” she said, using the finger quotes for the word ‘donated.’ “That’s what they want you to think.”

I’m sure I was looking at her with an expression somewhere between fury and hysterical laughter.

She started laughing uncontrollably, and came over and gave me a big hug. There were tears running down her cheeks as she pressed her face against mine. “I’m so sorry,” she said, but I might have been questioning her sincerity given that her words were forced out between bouts of laughter.

I tried to keep up my indignation, but it evaporated quickly and in another second I was laughing too. I’m sure all the other people in the gallery were staring at us and thinking we had gone crazy. No problem for me . . . I do crazy on a regular basis.

I finally stepped back, gave her a pretend punch on the shoulder and with my lip thrust out in an exaggerated pout said, “You suck! You’re the worst tour guide ever.”

Mia bent over, giggling again. She held up a hand and between gasps begged, “Stop. You’re going to make me pee my pants.”

“Good. I hope you do,” I continued with my pout, and then I was giggling too.

Mia grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the temple room to a small, quieter gallery. She stood, facing away from me, taking deep breaths trying to get herself under control.

Every time she looked back at me she started giggling again. I guess I wasn’t helping too much, because I kept throwing out comments. 

“So is my tour done? Am I going to have to ditch you here?” I asked ever so innocently. 

Mia continued giggling.

“You realize your Yelp review had just gone in the crapper. One star. That’s it!”

She let out a snorting little laugh, and then more giggles.

“Should I call security and tell them you’ve fallen victim to an ancient Egyptian giggling curse? It probably only affects people who are big fat liars!”

She started giggling again.

It took forever, but finally she seemed to have herself under control. She turned back around and came over to me. She casually slipped her hands around my waist and said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been teasing you that way.”

I did my pouty lip and looked away, but I’m sure she could see I was having a hard time keeping a smile off my face.

“How can I ever make it up to you,” she asked in an overly dramatic voice.

Now I was really struggling to keep my pout in place. In my most sullen voice I said, “I don’t know. You were being really mean. I’m not sure I can ever forgive you . . . . “ I paused, and then as if hit with a revelation said, “Well, maybe ice cream . . . but not vanilla. Vanilla’s boring. Maybe chocolate . . . yes, definitely chocolate. Or rocky road would do too.”

Mia laughed softly now and said, “Okay, chocolate ice cream it is. Then will you forgive me?”

I turned my eyes to her and said loudly, “Are you kidding? I’m going to hold this over you forever.”

We both laughed and she gave me a hug. The hug seemed to last a long time. I found I didn’t mind, though . . . it felt perfectly comfortable to me. 

When she finally stepped back, Mia looked at me and said, “You’re going to hold that over me forever? That sounds like a long time.” She paused, and then in a soft voice added, “I don’t think I’ll mind.” She hugged me again and this time she squeezed me extra tightly.

When she finally let me go, she wiped the remnants of the tears off her face, pulled out her phone and said, “That’s it. Now that you’ve forgiven me, we need a selfie.” She pulled me close, pressed her cheek against mine and snapped a picture.

She glanced at the screen and laughed, “What was that?” 

I managed to flash my best pout just as she’d taken the picture. “I’m still working at forgiving you,” I said, but I started giggling before I got to the end of the sentence.

She grinned at me, shook her head and said, “You are such a goof. Have you always been this big on drama?”

I just laughed. “No,” I told her, “You just bring it out in me.”

She stood there just grinning at me. I felt a little self conscious. Finally I asked, “What?”

Her smile actually broadened. I didn’t think that was possible, but it did. And then she said, “You are just the cutest.” She quickly grabbed me, spun around so she was beside me, held up her phone again and said, “Okay, one more try . . . and you behave this time.”

She took a number of shots of the two of us. We were both grinning now. When I looked at the pictures later, we both looked incredibly happy.

Mia led me around the museum showing me all the displays. We did see a number of paintings and she pointed out some of her favorites. I was actually quite surprised and delighted by many I saw. 

I expected to see lots of boring pictures of men sitting stoically, posed for their portraits. There were some of those, but there were many others of quite animated people – playing with kids, doing activities, dancing, working – just about anything I could imagine. I was amazed at how detailed many of these paintings were. The artists did such an incredible job capturing their subjects, I thought they looked more like a photograph than a painting. 

My favorites were the Rembrandts. The faces he painted just seemed to glow with life and leap right off the canvas. 

There were a variety of painting of landscapes and scenery too, but I really preferred the ones of people. 

Of course there were plenty of other displays to look at, from totally lifelike sculptures, to amazing jewellery, carvings, pottery, and even things like armor and swords. 

At some point I noticed that often as not, when Mia was leading me around, she had hold of my hand. In any other circumstance, I’m sure I might have found that a little weird, walking hand in hand with another woman. But on this day, and with her, it felt quite natural. 

Mia continued her commentary too, but I was a little more sceptical now. More than once I pointed at her and yelled, “I don’t believe that.” 

Mia would just give me a stern look, “Shhh!” me, and loudly whisper, “This is a museum. Behave yourself. You’re disturbing the other visitors.” 

Yep, we pretty much had everybody staring at us. I noticed there were certain people making their way through the exhibits like us, who would always quickly leave a gallery as soon as we came in. I guess they’d already seen our show!

The museum seemed to go on forever. Eventually I started to feel tired. “Guess you can’t keep up with me . . . just like in spin class,” Mia teased. 

I tried to give her a playful little swat with my free hand, but she danced away from me, saying, “Too slow.” 

She was still holding my other hand, and she pulled me back in towards her. She wrapped her arm around me, whipped out her phone and proclaimed, “Selfie time.” 

I think we’d shot about a hundred of them already, but I didn’t protest. I slipped my arm around her and squeezed her while I smiled and rested my head on her shoulder. 

As I looked at the two of us in the display on the phone, it dawned on me just how ridiculously happy we looked. I had to admit, I was having a great time. 

We found a bench in a quiet little corner and sat down. Mia sat very close to me and took my hand in hers again. It was almost five, and I realized I hadn’t even thought about talking to Mia about . . . well . . . .”

“Your great betrayal,” I heard Druzilla offer helpfully. “I think she’s already planning the wedding and what to name the kids. You better get to it before she books a hall and starts sending out the invitations.”

Just what I needed . . . to be smacked in the face with a boatload of guilt. I didn’t even need my mother for it. Not that I could claim any innocence on this count.

Something must have shown on my face because Mia gave my hand a squeeze and asked, “What’s up?” in a somewhat concerned voice.

Was this the moment? Was this when it all came crashing down? It had been such a fantastic afternoon, but was it going to end now on a very, very sour note?

No, it wasn’t. Emily, the super chicken to the rescue. Yes, I saved the day by smiling as best as I could and saying, “Nothing. I was just thinking it’s almost closing time.”

I paused. Both of us seemed to be contemplating that big questions . . . what now?

“Um, did you want to grab something? Maybe a drink or a bite to eat?” I asked. Yep, the chickens were stampeding wildly all over my common sense. 

Thank God for good old fashion rationalization. “The museum’s been great and we should just enjoy it. I don’t want to upset Mia here. This is one of her favorite places. How rude would it be of me to dump on her and have her reminded of that every time she comes here. No, that just wasn’t right.”

Yes, wasn’t I super caring and empathetic. Look at me thinking only of the feelings of others, even if it meant I had to remain burdened. Yes, wasn’t I totally selfless! 

Yeah, I’m good! Maybe if we could find a quiet place to grab a meal, then we could get into it there. That would be better, I decided.

But that idea got shot down quickly. Darn it anyway.

Mia gave me a somewhat sad look and told me, “Sorry, I’ve got Sunday dinner at my parent’s place. Every Sunday . . . no getting out of it.” She made it sound like she’d be happy if I could think of an idea that could get her out of it. But I knew from experience how these family things worked. 

We both sat there quietly for a few minutes. 

Finally Mia said, “I’m free tomorrow, though. Did you want to grab something to eat then?”

I told her about my commitment at my parent’s place. We compared schedules for the week. Mia worked Tuesday and Thursday evenings, teaching classes at a different fitness center. I told her I had a commitment on Wednesday. I was catching up with an old college friend. We’d been trying to get together for forever, and we’d finally settled on Wednesday maybe a month ago. I didn’t think it was fair to cancel on her. Mia seemed to reluctantly agree.

Neither of us had anything set for Friday, though. I typically went out for drinks with Amy and a few of our friends after work, but it wasn’t anything formal. Everyone just showed up if they weren’t up to anything else.

“So, Friday,” Mia asked.

I found myself grinning and nodding. “Friday sounds great. What do you want to do?”

We compared our work locations. They weren’t all that close. But when she told me the part of town she lived in we found we weren’t too far apart. Mia suggested we grab a drink, and then maybe some food. She knew a restaurant near her place that she said was good and not too expensive. When she mentioned the name, Gino’s, I just laughed and said I’d been there and loved it. So we agreed to meet up. That seemed to raise the spirits of both of us.

By then they were already announcing the museum was closing. We made our way back to the doors and then strolled down 5th Avenue. I didn’t notice when or how it happened . . . I just noticed all of a sudden that we were hand in hand again. Honestly, this was getting crazy, because I was feeling okay with it.

Typically we would have been taking the same train, but because Mia was going to her parents, she needed a different line.

We stopped there by the station and stood, looking all googly-eyed at each other. “I had a great time today,” Mia told me. She seemed very serious, and that seemed to make me very nervous.

“Was she going to kiss me?” I found myself wondering. “Would I let her?” I didn’t know the answer and that scared me a little.

Thank God my defenses kicked in to diffuse the situation. My defenses being my amazing talent at acting silly whenever things got serious. I realized that this wasn’t even just a Mia thing. It was how I often reacted when any relationship seemed to be moving to the next level before I was ready for it.

I’d started out quite serious, telling Mia, “I had a great time too. I really loved the museum.” Then I gave her a look of confusion and dismay and loudly proclaimed, “Wait a minute, you’re supposed to be buying me ice cream! You can’t get out of that this easy. I won’t forget . . . and Friday, I want my ice cream.”

Mia laughed and gave me a hug. Our trains were coming and we both knew we had to get going.

When she let me go she beamed at me and said, “I’ll see you Friday . . . and I’ll get you your ice cream.” She paused for a second, and then added, “And I guess I’ll be seeing you Saturday morning too.”

I looked at her a little shocked and maybe feeling somewhat panicked. Saturday morning? In my mind, if you saw someone Friday night and Saturday morning, well that obviously meant they were staying the night. Had I missed something about a sleep over? Did Mia have an expectation that something was going to happen on Friday? Did she think that we were spending the night together? Yep, I was definitely panicking!!

She must have seen the confusion on my face, because she said, “I’ll see you Saturday at the spin class.”

“Oh,” I said, and then hoped my relief wasn’t too obvious.

Mia didn’t seem too put off. She just gave me one final hug and said, “Sorry, I’ve got to go. If I’m late, my mother will hold it over me forever.” She paused and then added with a little grin, “Kind of reminds me of someone else I know.”

Her train was pulling into the platform, so she gave my hand a little squeeze, turned and ran for it. She stopped half way there, glanced back and gave me a little wave. I got one last look at that lovely smile of hers, and then she was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

To say I was conflicted was a huge understatement. The train ride home was a rollercoaster of emotions. Lots of thrilling highs, thinking about my day with Mia, followed by some gut wrenching lows as I wondered what to make of this whole situation. 

This had happened so quickly. I wondered if a few days break from each other would give me some better perspective. Maybe by Friday I’d have my feeling figured out, because as of now I was really more confused than ever. 

I was feeling almost despair, sitting there on the train wallowing in my uncertainty, when I felt my phone vibrate. I checked it to see a text from Mia. 

Suddenly the rollercoaster was swinging back the other way. Or was that more a pendulum. My college professor in literature had written more than once on my papers that I wasn’t so good with metaphors. 

Her text simply read, “Had a great time today.” There were a couple of smiley face emojis to go with it.

I quickly texted back, “Me 2,” and then added a second text, saying, “Tho u have no credibility, so I can’t be sure of u.” I added a frowny face and a poop emoji.

Mia’s responded immediately. “Is that your chocolate ice cream emoji? Must buy it soon so you’ll forgive me.” I got the emoji winking and sticking it’s tongue out. 

Yes, in a couple of minutes I’d gone from despair back to warm and gushy. Really good friends could make you feel that way, right? Mia and I could just be really good friends, couldn’t we?

I figured the answer was yes . . .but not in the real world. Maybe in some fantasy, make believe world that I was currently living in, but beyond that? I wasn’t too confident.

We texted most of the way back, until she arrived at her parents place. Her final text said, “Gotta go now. Talk 2 u later.” It was followed by two heart emojis.

I sat there staring at them. God, this was moving fast. My throat seemed to go dry and I could feel my heart beating loudly in my chest. 

My fingers were poised over my keypad, but I didn’t know what to type. I felt terrible. I could imagine Mia outside her parent’s house, staring at her phone, waiting for a response, growing more and more nervous with every second that ticked by. I had to type something. 

My brain had turned to mush. Arguably it had been in that state for the past two days, but right now it seemed like it had reached a new level of uselessness. What to type!

I finally typed, “See u.” I looked at it and knew it wasn’t right, so before I sent it I added, “Looking forward to Friday.” I added a smiley face emoji and sent it. 

I had no idea if I was totally overreacting. I didn’t know if Mia meant something deep and meaningful by her text or not. I didn’t know how she’d react to my response or whether it would register with her at all. Okay, I was back to confused!


	5. Chapter 5

When I got home, I didn’t feel like eating. I just flopped on my couch in the dark with my head under a pillow. Yep, no Zen-like state now. 

I found myself reliving the afternoon in my mind, smiling at all the great times Mia and I had had, trying to remember the words she had said, her looks and her body language to see if I could divine some deeper meaning to it all. I was second guessing everything I’d said and done, including that final text. 

I kept wondering if I should send Mia another text. I had no idea how long ‘dinner at her parents’ lasted. Not that it mattered. I couldn’t think of what I would put in a text. I certainly wasn’t going to explain my whole situation to her in a text. God, I hated it. Now it had become my situation! I was sure that was so much worse.

I had to get up and pace. I was starting to think I was manic-depressive. 

I paced into the kitchen and found a tub of ice cream in the freezer. Vanilla! Depressing!! My mother had brought it over at some point. How had she never realized that chocolate was my favorite? Nonetheless, I grabbed a spoon and started eating straight out of the tub. 

“It’s dairy,” I told myself. “Healthy . . . and good for my bones.” I did like my dream worlds these days!

I tried watching some TV, but I really couldn’t focus. I washed up, slipped on some comfortable pajamas and slipped into bed. I tried reading. No luck either. I was just too distracted. 

Finally around nine thirty I heard my phone ‘bing.’ It was a text! 

I jumped out of bed, snagging one of my feet in the sheets as I did, almost falling flat on my face, but at the last minute regaining my balance . . . not before bouncing off the wall though and almost knocking over a lamp with my flailing arms. 

I had that heart in the throat feeling as I picked my phone up, and I found myself thinking, “Please don’t be mom or Clara (my sister) or Amy or . . . .” 

It was a laundry list of who I didn’t want it to be. I guess it would have been simpler to just say who I wanted it to be. My face almost exploded, I sure, my smile felt so big when I saw Mia’s name.

“Survived the parents,” she wrote. There was no emoji this time.

“Great to hear,” I wrote back immediately, and then quickly followed it up with, “That will be me tomorrow. Wish me luck!” I added a winking emoji. I really didn’t want to leave her hanging like my last text.

“They tried to interrogate me about my day. Don’t worry, I didn’t crack. You’re safe for now,” she sent a sweating, fretful emoji.

“Not looking forward to that tomorrow,” I responded, and as I typed I thought, “Oh God, I’m really not looking forward to that tomorrow.” 

Like her phone calls, a normal part of any visit with my parents involved my mother interrogating me about my personal life. I was going to have to get myself psyched for that, because I really didn’t want to crack and spill to her about Mia. I still wasn’t sure what I had with Mia, but I certainly didn’t want to explore whatever it might be with my mother!

“Getting late, so I’ll let you go,” she wrote, with a big happy face and my favorite puppy emoji. I had to smile.

Without even a thought I typed, “I had a great day, today. Really looking forward to Friday. Hope to hear from you soon.” 

I paused before I sent it. “Was that really what I wanted to say,” I wondered. And then I decided it was. It was all true. I added the smiley face, and then just for fun, added the poop emoji and sent it.

Then I quickly sent, “Still thinking of ice cream!”

Mia sent back, “Friday. Can’t wait. Good night, u.”

I responded “Good night, u 2.”

I was smiling, and back to warm and gushy. I crawled into bed and curled up under the sheets. I wasn’t trying to ponder all my issues. I was just going with that happy feeling I had. It took some time, but I drifted off with a smile still on my face. 


	6. Chapter 6

Work! Aaaah! I wasn’t ready for Monday!! 

I so could have called in sick, but . . . well, I guess I hate people like that. I take my work quite seriously. I try to do a good job and I try to be a good employee. 

Being the lowest of the low in my department meant I had no shortage of work to do. It seemed everyone was taking those management courses that advocated delegation as a way to achieve more during the day. Apparently they didn’t understand that just getting something off their desk by piling it on my desk wasn’t actually being productive. But at least it meant I was busy, and that’s what I really needed. Because every time I popped my head up and took a second for myself . . . well, you can guess where my mind drifted. 

Yes, I woke up that morning with a smile on my face and joy in my heart. I was beyond fluffy puppies. It was fluffy puppies and bunnies and kittens and even fuzzy little baby penguins. Yes, so much cuteness I could puke.

I had more happy dreams and more special guest appearances from you know who. 

I lay there in bed far longer than I should have just basking in the warm afterglow. Of course that led to me getting out of bed late which turned the rest of my morning routine into a panicked, crazy rush. I had to skip any kind of breakfast, and didn’t even get a chance to make my morning cup of coffee. 

Normally that would spelled a very bad morning. Today, though, I just let my mind wander while I was on the train – oblivious to my lack of caffeine – and then picked up a Starbucks at the office. A muffin too.

I was so tempted to text Mia the moment I woke up. But like I said, I was rushed. Again, on the train, I pulled out my phone a couple of times with the same thought. I didn’t, though. I decided I should rein in my obsessiveness, just for once. 

“We’re just friends,” I told myself. “We had a great time yesterday . . . we texted last night right before we went to sleep. We don’t need to text again the minute we wake up, do we? That might seem . . . .” 

I didn’t know the word for it, but I knew what it meant. It would make it seem like maybe we were falling quite madly into something that was more than just friends. 

I was still struggling with that thought when I reached my desk. My expression on the train, I’m sure, had been swinging between my goofy, happy grin and my nervous, confused frown as my thoughts bounced back and forth. I realized if I kept this up, I’d be certifiable by noon. So I buried myself in my work. At least that gave me a bit of a break.

Just before lunch Amy swung by my desk. Thank God she hadn’t shown up first thing . . . I don’t think I would have been mentally ready to handle that.

“So, how’d your day go yesterday? Do anything interesting?” she asked in a casual tone. Of course then she added, “See anyone interesting? Start any new interesting relationships?”

I looked up at her and sighed. This was going to be tricky, I knew, but I decided it would be great practice for dealing with my mother tonight. 

Amy, of course, wasn’t in my mother’s league at reading me and certainly wasn’t anywhere near as relentless with her interrogation when she sensed something juicy was being withheld from her. Yes, my mom was in a league of her own. I’m surprised the NYPD didn’t call her in when they had a criminal they needed to break. A real missed opportunity.

Another of Amy’s qualities that my mother most certainly lacked . . . she knew when to back off. We went to lunch together. We talked a bit about my ‘date’ the previous day. I found it hard to rein in my feelings when I was talking about seeing the Met with Mia. Some of that excess joy just gushed out. 

I think Amy sensed my confusion and uncertainty and took pity on me. She didn’t push too hard, and told me that if I needed to talk, she’d be around. I just gave her a big hug and thanked her. 

I knew she was a good friend. Imagine, passing up on some nice, juicy dirt just to spare the feelings of your friend. Amy was definitely now on my ‘nice’ list – probably my ‘extra nice’ list. 

Right when I got back to my desk I felt my phone vibrate. My boss frowns on us ‘girls’ ‘playing’ on our phones at our desks. I guess he presumes we can’t get any work done if we’re being distracted by texts. He sees them as the equivalent of us standing around the water cooler, gossiping I’m sure. 

That’s a little ironic, I find, given that in mid conversation, if his phone (which he’s never without – separation anxiety issues??) ever vibrates, he immediately has too check it out. As if every text he gets is work related. Probably he’s expecting that call from the president asking his advise. As if.

Normally I don’t check my phone at my desk. Normally its in my purse and I only check it a couple of times a day. But I ask you, what was there that was normal in my life these days? I decided I still had a couple of minutes before my lunch hour was over, so since I was on my own time, what would be the harm in checking it? I told you I was great at rationalizations.

I think I quickly went through my, “Not my mom, not my sister . . . “ again as I dug my phone out. Big stupid grin and spastic butterflies in my stomach as I opened the message. Yes, it was from Mia. Yippee!!

I read the text. “Just wanted to say hi. Hectic morning. Work’s crazy today.” It was nothing deep and meaningful, but it still made my day. I was grinning from ear to ear and feeling like I was on happy pills. 

I quickly texted back, “Hi! Work’s crazy here too.” I paused, and then I added, “Glad to hear from you. It made my day!” I added a big smiley emoji. I sat there looking at it for a second, unsure. Finally I deleted the part about, “It made my day,” and sent it. It had made my day. I just really wasn’t ready to be saying that, though. I’d only just barely admitted it to myself.

In a minute Mia sent, “Looking forward to dinner tonight?”

“There are other things I can think of that I’d rather do,” I responded immediately. 

As soon as I’d sent it, though, I found myself second guessing. It was an offhand comment, but how was Mia going to interpret it? Would she assume I meant I’d rather spend it with her? Doing what? Arg! Brain exploding emoji!!

Mia texted back, “Sorry, gotta go. Work. Maybe talk later?” This time I got a big happy face.

I kind of felt saved. I loved hearing from Mia, but I was driving myself crazy over-analyzing everything I said and everything she said. It was so much harder with texts than face to face . . . and face to face was hard enough.

I just texted back. “Me too. Later, u.” I sat there for a minute, feeling all warm and tingly. I could have just closed my eyes and floated contentedly in that feeling all afternoon. But I caught sight of our boss circling through the cube farm like a hungry shark looking for prey, so I decided maybe I should just get back to work.


	7. Chapter 7

I kept my head down, and the afternoon flew by. The next thing I knew I was on the train on my way to my parent’s place. I’d texted Mia while I was waiting for the train, but I hadn’t heard back. So why was that making my stomach feel funny. Probably I was just hungry. That would be dealt with soon.

I paused outside of my parent’s house to check my phone again, but still no response. More tummy cramps. Was my period coming early this month? Sure, that was it.

I sent another quick text. God, was I overdoing it? I hoped not. I sent, “At my parents. Going in now. Wish me luck!” I added a worried emoji. 

Okay, I actually was a little worried about what I might face inside. I could only hope I could bluff my way through. I shut my phone off – I figured if I felt it vibrating, I’d get distracted and want to check it, and that might raise a question about who was texting and why it was so important. I took a deep breath and entered.

I still had my own key – I wasn’t out of the house that long – so I let myself in. My father looked up from his chair in the living room and smiled. 

“Emily, I’m glad you made it,” he said and got up and gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

Yeah, my parents, they’re real monsters! Okay, so they really weren’t, and my dad definitely wasn’t. He always made me feel safe and warm and welcomed . . . and he never pried into my personal life. I guess he didn’t have to, though, because . . . well, he had my mother for that.

There was another man in the living room with my father, and Dad introduced him as Raymond Wu. It seems he wasn’t really a cousin, just an old friend of my fathers. They’d actually grown up and gone to school together. 

“Just call me Ray,” he insisted as he shook my hand. 

I said my hellos and then excused myself as I headed off toward the kitchen. That’s where all the action was . . . and probably all the danger.

Typically this time of the day my Nana would have been perched at the dining room table working on a puzzle – the dining room was just off the living room and just outside of the kitchen. I paused there while I prepared myself. Because we had company for dinner, the dining room table was set, but otherwise, it would have been Nana’s domain. I would so have loved to just sit there with her and worked on her puzzle. 

Nana loved puzzles and did them just about every day. And I’ve got to say, she was amazing at them. 

I’d usually sit down and ‘help’ her whenever I come by. I’d sort through pieces, trying to find some easy match, and usually in the time it took me to find one piece, she would have put together a dozen . . . and those would be the sky or tree or water pieces that normal people just left to the end. 

I remember shortly after my grandfather passed away and Nana moved in with us, I saw her taking a puzzle apart before it was even finished. I asked her why, wondering if it was too hard and she’d gotten frustrated. No. She’d just said, “There’s only easy pieces left. No challenge.” And when I looked closer, sure enough the parts that weren’t put together were the easier sections.

Yes, sitting there doing a puzzle with Nana would have been ideal. Not just because I was avoiding my mother. Nana was like the ‘fun’ parent and she was always special to me. She’s the one who, when I was a teenager, would let me sip her wine when my mother wasn’t looking or who would cover for me when I came in late. And Nana was always good with advice . . . but never offered it unless you asked for it.

My mother, on the other hand, was a little more ‘proactive’ with her advice. 

I couldn’t delay facing my mother forever . . . or could I? No. No I couldn’t. I took a deep breath, put on a smile and pushed through the kitchen door.

Nana was at the small kitchen table where we would have eaten if it had been just the four of us. She was playing some kind of game on my mother’s cell phone and from her look of intense concentration I could tell she was deep into it. Without even looking up she said, “There’s my ladybug. Come give your Nana a hug.” 

I smiled – for real this time. I went over and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek and said, “Hi Nana.”

I always found it amusing that we had to call her Nana. Typically she would have been call Po Po – as the grandmother on my mother’s side. But my sister had told her the ‘PoPo’ was slang for the police. I guess in my grandmother’s experience – undoubtedly from her younger days – being associated with the police wasn’t exactly something to be proud of. So she decided it would be Nana from then on. That’s what her friend, Mrs. Morelli from bingo went by, and she decided she liked it. So Nana it was. “It’s just more American,” she told me. Like she worried about that.

Luck was with me. Mom was busy at the stove so any interrogation would have to wait. “Emily, glad you could make it . . . before we actually had to sit down to eat. Now wash your hands and you can start carrying the food out to the table.”

I made sure I kept my smile in place as I slipped up behind her and gave her a hug. I didn’t want her radar going off. I swear, even when she wasn’t looking at me, mom could read every expression on my face.

My mom’s kitchen is kind of like an operating room at the hospital. Every one who enters has to scrub in, even if they’re just carrying dishes to the table. It’s not a crazy idea, I guess, but like everything else, when it’s taken to excesses it’s a little comical.

After I washed my hands, I grabbed a couple of bowls off the counter by the stove and started hauling the food out to the dining room. I didn’t even bat an eye at the number of bowls or the quantity of food that mom had prepared. It just went without saying that if we had a guest, there would be enough food to feed us, our guest, and about twenty other people. No one ever starved when they came visiting at our house. 

Now from my prospective, this was ideal. That meant hordes of leftovers that I could nab. If I was invited over, I knew I’d be eating well for days afterwards. I wondered if mom had even increased her quantities since I moved out. I’m sure she knew I wasn’t big into cooking. 

I can cook – I really had no choice, because my mother would never have been so irresponsible as to raise daughters who didn’t know their way around a kitchen. 

Usually I just chose not to cook, though. Besides, when I make things, they never taste the same as when mom made them. 

She’d told me, “That’s because of all the love I add.” Nana had told me it was really because mom never kept track of what herbs and spices and sauces and such she added to things. As a result, any recipe I got from her was always a little short on these details. What is a “dash” or a “sprinkle” or “season to taste” anyway? 

My food always tasted fine when I was making it, but then when I dished it up, too often it was bland. And I’ll admit, I just didn’t have those instincts to know what I needed more of or less of. Better to just rely on the leftovers. Besides, after work, who felt like cooking?

Mom brought the final two bowls out of the kitchen and we all gathered around the table for the feast.


	8. Chapter 8

The meal probably lasted an hour or more. I felt sorry for Ray. Mom kind of forced him to keep eating until I was certain he was going to burst. 

The food was good, as always, and I gorged myself. Its not very lady-like of me, I know, and I’ve been told that more than once. But I’ve learned to just smile back at mom and tell her, “It’s all so good, I just can’t stop.” She loves the compliment, but I can see the conflict on her face. If only she knew how little I often eat when she’s not providing the food.

Overall, I thought I did pretty good. Dad and Ray did most of the talking, so that helped. And mom seemed quite interested in some of the mischief the two of them had gotten up to in their younger days. 

It was quite entertaining, even if it was hard to believe. Dad was like a stereotypical accountant. You just assumed the worst thing he’d ever done in his life was maybe letting his car get five mph over the limit . . . and that would be on the interstate, and only when he was rushing to get home to catch the baseball game on TV.

I know my mind wandered off a few times, but I hoped it had gone unnoticed or it was just assumed I was bored with ‘old people’ stories. Everyone knows the kids these days have no focus unless they’re in front of their phone!

I helped clear off the table, and then loaded the dishwasher and started on the dishes. Dad and Ray wandered off to the garage. It was perhaps the worst kept secret in our house that the garage was where Dad kept his good bottle of scotch. He had a couple of big old chairs out there, so I assumed the two of them were going to carry on with their reminiscing. 

Dad and Ray had barely cleared the back door when mom said, “You were very quiet tonight, Emily. Is there something on your mind?”

Danger, danger!! If this was a movie, alarms would have been sounding and people would have been rushing about trying to get as far away from this room as possible . . . me included. 

Keep your eyes down, focus on dish washing, no long answers, no details of any sort. Name, rank and serial number. Snitches get stiches! Okay, now I was babbling, even if it was all in my head!

“Emily,” mom prompted and she came over to dry the dishes.

Oops, forgot to answer the first question. This wasn’t going so well.

I gave her a quick smile and then turned back to the dishes while I lied like a politician (my father’s expression – it seemed appropriate). “I’m fine, mom. Just thinking about things I need to get to at work. I’m really busy these days.”

Silence. That was rarely good.

I tried to distract myself by focusing back on the dishes, but the silence seemed to go on and on. 

Oh, she was good. I think she could even teach the FBI a thing or two, because suddenly I found myself talking again, even though I really didn’t want to. “Yeah, that’s why I was late tonight. Work. Lots of work. And they’re talking about a new project starting soon that I might be helping out with. A system upgrade, and someone has to do a bunch of testing. So I might be helping with that . . . .”

Had I sold them yet? More silence. Not a good sign.

“Are you seeing anybody these days?” Mom, trying to change the topic and catch me off guard.

I hoped she couldn’t see the flush that I suddenly felt on my face. “No, not really.” It didn’t even sound convincing to me. God, I really didn’t want to get into this. I knew I couldn’t . . . because I didn’t even know what ‘this’ was. But either way, it wasn’t something I could talk about with my mother.

“So who is this man?” she continued. “Is it serious? How long has it been going on? Why wouldn’t you tell your mother?”

I was cracking. She was hitting me from all sides. Rapid fire questions . . . and a good dose of motherly guilt. I knew I wouldn’t last long. I’m so pathetic!! 

Finally I turned to her, almost in tears, and said, “I’m not going out with anyone. There’s just someone who’s . . . interesting. We just met, but I don’t know what we are. I don’t even know if I want to go any further with them. I just need some time to figure it out. They’re just . . . different than other people I’ve gone out with.”

My mother’s eyes lit up and she looked ready to pounce with her next barrage of questions when I heard Nana say, “Lillian.” That was my mom . . . Lily, usually. 

I think my mother and I were both shocked by Nana’s tone. I’d never heard her speak to my mother so forcefully.

We both stared at her. Mom looked like she was about to say something, but Nana’s stern face seemed to make her reconsider. Mom just nodded and didn’t say anything. I’m not sure if she was being the dutiful daughter, or if there was something in her mother that still scared her a bit.

In a more measured tone Nana said, “Leave the girl be. Let her figure it out on her own. Then she can tell us all about it.” Amazingly, she said all this without ever looking up or pausing her game. 

I’d always only ever seen happy, fun Nana. I’d never imagined there was a hard, scary Nana . . . and certainly not one that could halt my mother in the midst of an interrogation. I actually didn’t think there was anyone or anything that would stop my mother in that situation. 

In my mind, I’d had the image of a shark circling and me being a chunk of raw, bloody meat tossed into the water, drawing her in for the inevitable attack. No one ever expects to be rescued from that. I felt so lucky.

Yes, my last break up had happened at the start of summer, and I’d spent days wallowing in self pity, eating ice cream (not vanilla), and as it turned out, watching shark week on TV. I didn’t have the energy to change the channel. Now I found my mind was often filled with shark related metaphors. Sometimes they were totally appropriate, though.

Nana glanced up, gave mom the hard eyes for another few long seconds, and then turned to me. Her face softened and I saw a little smile return.

“Ladybug,” she said, “relationships are like doing a puzzle.” 

I had to smile. It was amazing how many things in life Nana could relate to puzzles. 

“With a puzzle, you’re always looking for a piece,” she continued. “You think you know what that piece is like and often you’re right. But sometimes, when you find just the right piece, you discover it isn’t anything like you expected. That doesn’t make it wrong, just because it’s different than you expected. If the piece fits, it’s the right piece, and you should just be happy that you found it.” She paused and gave a big smile. “So you need to decide if what you found is the right fit for you, even if it isn’t what you expected.”

I couldn’t help grinning at Nana. I gave her a big hug and said, “Thank you, Nana. I’ll try to figure it out.”

My mom joined our hug and whispered, “Sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

It was a real Hallmark moment. If it were a movie on TV, this would have been the part where I’d be reaching for the tissues. We all managed to keep dry eyes, though.

When I finally let go, Nana looked at me, grinned, and said, “When you do figure it out, ladybug, you need to make sure you tell us all the details.” Then she laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

Okay, enough drama for one evening. I felt drained, so I made my excuses and took off pretty much as soon as I’d finished the dishes. I did make a point of keeping Nana in the room with me. I figured not knowing all the little details must have been driving mom mad, so I didn’t dare let her get me alone. 

I had generously volunteered to box up the leftovers, and then carted them out with me in a shopping bag when I left. You know, so they weren’t filling up mom’s fridge. I’m always willing to sacrifice for my family.

I really couldn’t wait to get home and crawl into bed. I was so emotionally spent, I didn’t even think to turn my phone back on until I was on the train. So obviously I was majorly distracted.

When it finally started up, I was thrilled to see three messages from Mia. That lifted my spirits.

The first one just said, “Good luck at the parents,” with a couple big smiley faces.

The second one said, “Went to gym. Now I feel exhausted. Couch. Hope I can make it to the bed.”

The third one said, “Fully recovered. Found the secret – ice cream. You inspired me. Really good. Sorry, none left for you. Later.” 

I realized she’d only sent the last message about ten minutes before. I quickly typed a message of my own. “Survived, just barely. A bit of drama. Saved by Nana . . . for now!” 

Mia texted back immediately. “Are you okay??”

“Great,” was my response. I guess not overly convincing, but I really was still recovering. I was starting to realize the stress of the whole situation had been way worse than I thought

“Are you sure?” Mia asked.

“Yeah, I’m good I guess,” was my response. Still pretty lukewarm. I started to wonder if I was subconsciously fishing for sympathy.

There was a bit of a break and I started wondering if I had somehow convinced Mia everything was fine. I didn’t think she’d end it like that, though. That just didn’t feel right.

Then another message arrived. “Did you want to talk?”

When I read it, I’ve got to say my happy meter shot right through the roof. Whatever weight I’d had sitting on my shoulders seemed to evaporate and was replaced by a helium assisted buoyancy that immediately lifted my sagging spirits.

Without even a serious thought I typed, “Yes,” and then quickly added, “When I get home.”

The rest of the train ride seemed to take forever, even though I know it was only fifteen or twenty minutes at the most. Mia and I continued texting the whole time, so by the time I got home I was feeling much better. I really wanted to hear her voice, though.

I peeled off my coat and shoes, quickly tossed my food in the fridge and then slipped into something more comfortable. I know that’s often a euphemism for something, but in this case I literally slipped into something more comfortable . . . fuzzy pajama bottoms, a baggy t-shirt and my fuzzy slippers. I left the lights turned low, curled up on the couch under my fuzzy blanket and dialed Mia’s number.

Was I really just calling a friend? That’s what I told myself, but it didn’t explain why my throat felt dry and I had those spastic butterflies bouncing around in my stomach again.

When I heard Mia say, “Hi there,” I felt a huge silly grin slide across my face. Stress? What stress. All my worries seemed to be long gone when I heard her voice. 

I realized – or at least finally acknowledged – that what I was feeling was probably a little more than joy at finding a really amazing friend. Was Mia a puzzle piece that fit with me? God, I had some more serious thinking to do.

But for now I just wanted to chat and hear her voice and her laugh. That was what I really, really needed.


	10. Chapter 10

Tuesday morning seemed no better than Monday. I was a little tired, but that could have been because Mia and I had talked until almost midnight. Don’t ask me what we talked about . . . the topics didn’t really seem that important. We’d just talked and enjoyed each other’s company.

Talking on the phone was good, I decided. There were a few times where there might have been some subtle references to a relationship that was more than just friends. Though maybe I’m reading things into it. But without having to see the smiles and body language and without the hugs and hand holding . . . well, it was much more like two good friends just talking. 

I felt better on a number of levels by the time we’d hung up. And I was getting the inkling of an idea . . . my first since Saturday morning, I’m sure. 

It was all so simple, really. “What would I do,” I asked myself, “if there was guy I really liked – as a friend – but he seemed like he wanted more?”

The simplest answer was you had to move him into the ‘friend zone.’ 

We’ve all hear of this . . . where you’re essentially such good friends, that you won’t risk a relationship because if it goes wrong, then you’d lose that person as a friend. Everyone knows it’s near impossible to go back from couple to friends, at least in the short term. Maybe after years . . . but then maybe not. 

I started thinking, as I lay there in bed that morning, that maybe I could move Mia into that ‘friend zone.’ Then we could stay friends, which I knew I really wanted, but there’d be no comfortable way to move beyond that. 

Great plan, right? Well, at least it was something that seemed like a plan.

Of course I could just tell her the truth. Why was that seeming more and more like a crazy idea?

I was working on my ‘plan’ that morning – I’m allowed to take a couple of minutes during work to think about things. Right? 

Anyway, I heard my phone vibrating in my purse. I got an instant grin on my face and that warm happy feeling inside. “Mia? Yeah, you’re really just friends,” I heard a sarcastic Druzilla say. I ignored her. She was just trying to stir up trouble. You can’t trust people like that.

In spite of my rule about not checking my phone during work, I dug it out of my purse and took a quick look. I felt a little sad to see the text wasn’t from Mia. It was from Chloe, my college friend. She said she had a problem with Wednesday and could we reschedule. 

Was it bad that I felt thrilled I now had my Wednesday open. I sent a text off to Mia immediately. “My Wednesday just cancelled. Do you want to do something?” Smiley emoji. Chloe would never know.

I sat impatiently with my phone on my lap, waiting to hear back. I stared at it, willing it to vibrate. I guess my powers were weak that morning, because I got nothing. I was feeling frustrated.

Just then I heard my bosses voice right beside my cube wall. “Are you coming,” he grunted. “We’ve got that eleven o’clock meeting with IT.”

I actually jumped and felt my heart skip a beat or two. I was losing it. How did I let him sneak up on me like that? It was clear I was getting totally distracted. Thank God he just thought I had my head down because I was working.

I quickly jumped up, almost dumping my phone onto the floor. I just got it and quickly tucked it back into my purse while I pretended I was only putting the purse out of sight in one of my drawers. Then I grabbed my note pad and a pen and followed my boss. An hour with IT! I hoped I could take it. I wondered, though, was I turning into one of those Millennials who got separation anxiety if they were away from their phone too long? How pathetic!

By the time the meeting was over it was 12:15 and I was more than a little edgy. I grabbed my lunch – yes, left-overs – and rushed back to my desk to immediately check my phone (oh, we’ve been apart so long, I’ve missed you, IPhone! – yeah, sad). Still no message. Now I really was sad.

I left the phone on my desk and started eating my lunch. I opened my photos and flipped through the pictures from Sunday – I’d had Mia air drop them to me at the end of the day. 

“Yeah, its just your phone that’s causing you separation anxiety!” Druzilla chirped up again. She was being extra annoying today. 

I ignored her and turned back to the pictures. I couldn’t help smiling and feeling better looking at the selfies of me and Mia from the Met.

I’d all but given up hope of hearing from Mia when my phone finally buzzed around a quarter to one. God, it had seemed like I’d been waiting an eternity.

“Sorry, crazy busy today. Meetings!” That was it for her first message. My heart kind of sank. “What about tomorrow!” I almost screamed. Yeah, I needed to get hold of myself. Maybe I’d overdone the coffee that morning. But you definitely need a big one whenever you meet with IT.

Then another message appeared and all was good in the world again. “Love to do something tomorrow. Any ideas? Meet up after work?”

I was back to smiling. And thinking about my ‘plan’. So I quickly texted her, “How about a movie? Grab a bite first, maybe?” 

A movie was the perfect ‘friend’ thing to do, I’d decided. A good girl’s movie . . . but not a rom com or anything with a love story. That would definitely be the wrong choice. 

I had checked the listing and come up with a perfect choice. Mia had texted “Sure” to my suggestion, so I texted back about a sappy Julie Roberts that I thought would be perfect.

After I sent the text I paused, and then gave myself a little head slap. I’d finished my text with, “Julia Roberts . . . I really like her!”

How was Mia going to interpret that? Would she assume I was hinting there were women that I ‘liked’? And ‘liked’ how? As an actress, or . . . otherwise? God, was I over-thinking this? I was definitely driving myself crazy. 

“I like it,” Mia texted back. “Also heard good things about the movie . . . and love Julia.” 

We settled on plans to meet up at a local pub over by the theaters for a drink and some snacks. “Not too much food, need to have popcorn,” Mia insisted, and then added, “I’ll share a bag with you.” 

Hmm, did that mean something? More over-thinking!

I caught sight of the boss on patrol, so I said I had to go. Mia added a “Talk to you later,” to her last text. 

I found myself smiling. As much as I tried to deny it, I knew I was hoping she meant that literally. The thought of spending a couple hours talking to her again this evening certainly left me floating on a wave of happiness. 

There’s nothing wrong with that, right? Who doesn’t like talking with their friends. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” came Druzilla in a mocking tone. Could imaginary voices in your head get PMS?


	11. Chapter 11

My mind was so pre-occupied that I’d all but forgotten I had my spin class that night. I was feeling weak, so I considered blowing it off. 

I tried not to actually have the thought, but I knew my brain was thinking, “What if Mia calls and you’re out?” But I wasn’t thinking about blowing the class off because of that. 

It had been a long day at work, and I was tired. And I was still a bit sore from Mia’s insane workout on Saturday. And I hadn’t eaten yet, so I didn’t want to fill up and not give it plenty of time to digest before the class. That would just be wrong. 

Yeah, I had lots of really good excuses. I almost managed to talk myself out of it. But I needed to exercise, and anyway, I think I really needed to do something to burn off some of this excess stress. So I went to the class and enjoyed it. 

Not as much as I’d enjoyed the Saturday class, of course. The guy teaching this class was gorgeous and all the women were drooling all over him, but I thought he seemed a little full of himself. Had I been drooling over him last week? Well, I was older and wiser now. So I just focused on pushing myself and getting a really good workout.

I did feel better afterwards and I was happy I’d decided to go. I got a decent workout, and for a change my mind seemed a little less scattered.

I checked my phone on the way out of the gym. There was a text from Mia. “I assume you’re at your class. Probably not as tough as mine. Should be a piece of cake. Later.” I was smiling.

It also triggered a random thought. Hadn’t mom sent a piece of cake home with me yesterday? Mmm, that would be good. Had to keep those calories topped up. So when I got home I’d have to check that out.

At home I quickly showered, slipped into some comfy pajamas, made a cup of tea and dug that piece of cake out of the fridge. I had just curled up on the couch when my phone rang. I felt that fluttering in my chest and a ridiculous smile burst out on my face when I saw Mia’s name. “My friend,” I told myself firmly as I answered the phone. 

Tuesday night was another marathon gab-fest with my new bestie. We shared a lot more about each other this time. 

I told her about growing up in the shadow of my older sister. I tried my best not to whine too much. Beyond dealing with Clara, though, I had to admit I had a pretty good childhood.

It turned out Mia was a youngest child too. She had two older brothers, but being the only girl in the family, and the youngest, she admitted that ‘maybe’ she was a little bit spoiled. 

“Yeah, I was noticing that,” I told her and laughed.

“Just for that, I’m only buying vanilla ice cream,” she responded.

“That’s a horrible thing to say,” I told her with mock outrage. “How could anybody be so mean!”

Mia just laughed and said, “I like vanilla ice cream. So there.”

I told her I was shocked. I felt betrayed! “I don’t know if I can be friends with someone who liked vanilla ice cream,” I insisted. 

Mia just laughed at me. 

I have to admit, after I’d said it, I felt that nervous tightening in my stomach. Here I was joking about being misled and betrayed. Was there maybe something . . . something actually important . . . that I wasn’t being totally honest about? Was I the biggest hypocrite or what?

Mia also told me that for the first few years she could remember, she moved around a bit because her father was in the army. They didn’t settle in the New York area until she was eight, but she’d lived here ever since. 

She said she thought maybe that’s why her dad loved war movies, and that on Saturday afternoon when she was growing up, she’d often sit and watch them with him. I could tell that was one of those really fond memories and something that had made the two of them close. Yeah, we were really sharing.

When she mentioned that Patton was one of her dad’s favorite movies, and that she’d seen it probably a dozen time, I cut in, saying, “So that where your ‘Patton stole that Egyptian temple’ story came from?” 

She giggled. “That was a good story,” she said proudly. “I still remember the look on your face when you figured it out. That was so precious.” Now she was outright laughing, reliving our little episode at the Met.

I wasn’t laughing quite as hard. “Be careful or you’re going to pee your pants again,” I warned her. That just made her laugh more.

It was pretty much midnight again when we reluctantly said our good-byes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, after work,” I told her. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” Mia gushed. “I can hardly wait to see you.”

I felt such confused emotions. She wasn’t exactly sounding like a ‘friend’ looking forward to a girl’s night out at the movies. Her words were doing nothing to hide some much deeper emotions. That made me feel kind of tense and nervous. 

But at the same time, I felt this strange . . . something . . . almost excitement. Certainly some kind of thrill at the prospect of seeing Mia. And who wouldn’t want to see someone who was so wonderful and who clearly wanted to see me so badly? Confusing was an understatement!

I muddled through our final good-byes – I think this was about round five – and when I finally hung up I just sat there wondering what I was going to do. Suddenly my ‘plan’ wasn’t feeling quite so solid.


	12. Chapter 12

I struggled a little more getting to sleep that night. You could say I had a few things on my mind. Once I got to sleep, though, I slept like a baby until my alarm rudely dragged me back to life in the real world. Couldn’t I just stay in my dream world where everything was nice and rosy and happy . . . and simple?

I was running late again. It was becoming a thing! Usually I was quite organized, but this week had been total chaos. Luckily I was a little bit prepared because I had already decided what I was going to wear. I slipped on one of my favorite sweaters, which I thought looked pretty good on me. I always found movie theaters cold, so for me a sweater was an obvious choice. If I had my way, I’d probably bring my fuzzy blanket to the theater. My fuzzy slippers too.

And with my sweater, I wore a skirt. It was a bit of a short skirt, but I’d always liked it with the sweater. Maybe I could have worn pants, but . . . well, the skirt was what I always wore with the sweater. Yes, me and logic are not always close friends.

I had that nervous tummy the whole day it seemed. I was trying not to think about it, because then I might have to decide whether it was anxiety or maybe excitement.

I knew I was looking forward to seeing Mia. I wasn’t kidding myself about that. I was just unsure how I might handle it if she was more than just ‘happy to be hanging out with a friend’.

We traded texts a few times during the day, but luckily for me I was crazy busy again with work. Yes, this delegation thing was kind of getting out of hand. When were they going to get me someone I could delegate some things to?

Finally the afternoon ended. I slipped into the bathroom to check my hair and touch up my make up. I’m not usually so vain. I guess I just wanted to be comfortable with how I looked. The same logic as at the Met – if I was happy with how I looked, it was one less thing for me to stress about. It had worked out so well for me on Sunday! 

After I’d satisfied myself that I hadn’t grown a second head or developed a really gross zit in the middle of my face, I grabbed my coat and purse and headed out.

I caught the train and got off near the mall where the theaters were. The pub where we’d agreed to meet was just across the parking lot from the mall. When I got there I was pleased to see the place wasn’t too crowded. I had no idea if it would get busy later on a Wednesday night, but I figured at this point we could have our pick of tables. 

I mentioned to a passing waitress that I was meeting a friend, and she pointed to a booth over on the side. When I looked I saw Mia’s smiling face. She was waving me over.

When I got to the booth I noticed that it was sort of horseshoe shaped. So no table conveniently separating me and my ‘friend’. 

Mia was kind of at the back of the table. When I slid in, she slid herself over and gave me a big hug. I didn’t hesitate to hug her right back. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world. 

When we separated (how long was that hug – was it inappropriately long??) Mia sat there giving me that high voltage smile of hers. I couldn’t help smiling back. There was no denying the power of her smiles. They just made me feel good. 

Neither of us seemed to say anything for the longest time. Finally Mia glanced away, almost shyly. 

She place a hand on top of mine, gave it a little squeeze, and asked, “How have you been. It’s so good to see you.” Yep she was gushing again. 

It seemed she almost consciously caught herself because she paused, took a deep breath, moved her hand off mine and slid back a foot or so.

“Sorry,” she started, seeming almost a little flustered. “Emily, I know I’m coming on way too strong. I’m sorry. It’s really not like me. Honest. I’m always the slow, cautious one . . . I’m always the one pushing back and taking my time, not being impulsive. I like to get to know a person first before I . . . I don’t know, make any kind of commitment, I guess. And here I am acting like a giddy teenager. I’m so sorry.”

I sat there like a spectator, not really sure what to say. I got the sense that in spite of what Mia had just said, from her perspective, we were far, far away from the ‘friend zone.’ I’m not even sure you could see the ‘friend zone’ from where she was sitting. Well that didn’t bode well for ‘the plan.’ 

Hey, I was happy to hear her talk about slowing things down and not being impulsive, though. Of course that implied that we were both moving down a very specific path. I know that in reality I felt I was on that path too . . . sure, as an imposter, but still. And it was like I was being carried along by Mia’s exuberance and my definite lack of a backbone. I’m sure that backbone was going to develop soon . . . I couldn’t spend my whole life being a jellyfish. I had to evolve at some point! But when?

In the meantime, as Mia was making all of these heartfelt remarks, there I was just quietly staring back at her, like an inanimate object . . . or a cat. Never try to pour your feelings out to a cat. Dogs are good . . . but not cats. They just stare back at you like you’re sad and pathetic and are boring them. Not helpful.

As I sat there, though, I did discover that I wasn’t the only one who thought that silence in an otherwise awkward situation called for only one thing . . . more talking . . . because Mia started up again, sounding possible even more flustered.

“I really do like you, Emily. You’re just so much fun to be around, and I feel like we kind of . . . I don’t know . . . we click. We get each other, I guess. It’s such a great feeling . . . and I don’t want to risk losing it. Maybe that’s why I keep thinking I need to back off, just for now. I afraid if I’m all serious after only a few days you might start thinking I’m one of those crazy women who just bounce in and out of relationships. I’m not really like that . . . well, usually. This is really weird for me and I’m really hoping I’m not freaking you out or scaring you with how I’m acting. That’s not really me. Honest, I’m not that person. I really should stop talking. Right. I think I’ve said all I wanted to say. I just wanted you to know. If I’m backing off, it’s just so I don’t seem too crazy impulsive . . . .”

Would this have been the perfect time to jump in and suggest that we could just start out as friends and go from there – just to take the pressure off us both. No other expectations. Just us hanging out, having a good time, enjoying each other’s company . . . as friends. 

Yeah, that would have been brilliant. 

Instead I found myself feeling sorry for Mia, sitting there babbling, totally vulnerable, feeling more lost and confused with every word. I’d been there more times than I cared to remember, and I know all I really wanted when I was in that situation was for someone to rescue me. That’s what a friend would do, right? I must be a really good friend then.

I put my hand on hers, gave it a squeeze and said, “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I think you’re right, we do kind of click. I really like hanging out with you. You make me laugh and you make me feel good.” 

Okay, probably it was the right line for a normal friend who was having a bout of uncertainty and needed some reassurance about the direction of her relationship. Actually, I’ve always prided myself on giving good relationship advice (some would say great, but I’m far too modest). I’m sure it made Mia feel a little better, especially after she’d opened herself up that way.

I was half way through congratulating myself when it dawned on me that this was a slightly different situation than normal – it wasn’t a girlfriend talking about her relationship with some guy, it was Mia talking about her possible future relationship with me! Yikes. I’d maybe put my foot in it . . . or probably more than just my foot. 

Here was Mia suggesting we slow things down and maybe work on that friend thing first, sort of like she’d heard ‘the plan’, and I was the one saying, “Don’t worry, I feel the same way you do, so stop all this crazy talk and let’s just be totally impulsive and see what happens!” 

Mia served up this wonderful opportunity to me and here I was drilling it straight into the net. Yes, tennis must have popped into my head because I was infamous for over-think things in the game when I had a prime opportunity. Well, maybe that didn’t apply, because it seemed in this situation that I hadn’t thought things through at all.

I noticed Mia was looking happier and less stressed. I also noticed I still had her hands in mine. I slid my hands back as casually as possible. Now I was the one feeling awkward.

Thank God the waitress showed up right then. She introduced herself as Ashley and ask us if we wanted any drinks or food. “I could use a drink,” I responded immediately. Something strong! Tequila! Make it a double. Leave the bottle. Wait, I hated tequila. Then something sweet and fruity. And a double sounded pretty strong. Maybe just a single. 

Yeah, I didn’t say any of that. I just ordered a pear cider and Mia ordered some white wine. We told Ashley we’d get back to her on the food.

When she left I found Mia grinning at me. It was that sort of cheesy, ‘I know something,’ grin. What? Did I have something in my teeth? Did that giant zip appear after all? Finally I asked, “What?”

Mia sat back and continued grinning. “Were you checking out her boobs?” she finally asked with a joyful little laugh.

What? No. Was I? Had I reached the point where I just did it automatically and I didn’t even realize I was doing it? Had I already become a teen aged boy? Correction – that could apply to most guys at any age.

I involuntarily glanced over at Ashley and good old Druzella acknowledged, “Hey, she does have a nice set. You can really spot them!”

I was blushing. Now I was the one who was flustered. 

Mia just laughed and said, “Don’t worry. It doesn’t bother me.” With a coy little grin she added, “I think I kind of knew you had a thing for boobs.”

In embarrassing situations, what’s the one thing I shouldn’t do? Start talking, of course. I should have that tattooed on me – somewhere very prominent – because that’s what I always do. No point changing that winning formula, right?

I started to talk. I started to tell Mia my whole sad, obsessive tale about boobs, my despair over my lack of boobs, and my quest for boobs of my own. I wanted to stop talking. I really didn’t want to share this bizarre side of me. Hey, I didn’t really understand it. It made no real sense to me. So how would it ever make sense to someone else? But it seemed I’d lost control of my mouth and my brain, and Mia just egged me on, laughing all the while. 

You’d think someone giggling at your deepest, darkest secret might be a little upsetting, but it honestly made it all seem like less of a big deal. When I finally finished my tale, all I could add was, “I’m so embarrassed.” Well, if ‘the plan’ didn’t work to make Mia think twice, undoubtedly this insight into my seriously warped brain would.

But Mia just laughed. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed,” she said. “We’ve all got weird things going on. I’ve always thought my fingers were too long. How bizarre is that? Its great when I play the piano, but otherwise, it’s just freaky.”

Hey, she was right, her fingers were kind of long. I hadn’t noticed that. 

I heard a quick, “Maybe you didn’t notice because you were spending all your time staring at her boobs!” Yep, Druzilla wasn’t missing a shot tonight. Of course it was easy having so much material to work with.

Mia smiled at me and added, “I don’t think you’re weird . . . but I do think you’re a little crazy.” 

At last, something we could agree on. Although when she said it, she almost managed to make it sound like an endearing quality. 

She continued. I saw her features soften. She was still smiling, but something in her eyes and face changed just subtly. Her voice changed a little too. It was a little quieter, and maybe more serious . . . or more sincere. She said, “You don’t need a boob job. You’re beautiful just the way you are.”

Her big brown eyes held mine for what seemed like an eternity, and then she got kind of a guilty look on her face and she shyly looked away.

Was it kind of corny? Maybe, but I had no doubt she really, truly believed what she’d said. I knew it was one of those straight-from-the-heart statements that slip out spontaneously sometimes. And I knew there were deeper feelings around the edges of her simple statement. 

I really should have been a little scared. I’d just gotten a sense of exactly how seriously Mia felt about me – some of it from what she said, but probably even more from how she’d said it.

It was kind of huge, and we both knew it. 

But I didn’t feel scared. I felt . . . I’m not sure how to describe it. I felt amazingly happy . . . almost a little giddy. I felt like I was floating on air, light headed, with my heart swelling in my chest and my head filling with sappy love songs. 

Was this it? Was I surrendering to the inevitable? Was I accepting that maybe . . . just maybe, there was something in me that wasn’t the least bit put off by the idea of me and Mia being . . . I wasn’t sure what the word was I was looking for. The two of us being a couple? I guess that was it.

I just sat there smiling at her, relishing the way I suddenly felt. She returned my smiles. Neither of us said anything.

Just then, Chesty – I mean Ashley – showed up with our drinks. I’m not sure she noticed the moment we were having because I made a point of looking down at the table. Mia wasn’t going to accuse me again of staring at her boobs.

It must have seemed awkward because I sensed the waitress was giving me a funny look and Mia wasn’t even trying to hide her giggling. Ashley asked again if we were ordering food. We promised we’d check out the menu and let her know in a couple of minutes.

When she was gone Mia just about collapsed she was laughing so hard.

“Are we going to need a wet clean up over there,” I asked her in my less than amused tone. That did nothing to halt the yuk-fest.

“Well I’m going to look at the menu,” I said. Yes, wasn’t I being the mature one. Certainly a new role for me.

In spite of my feigned annoyance, I couldn’t hide the big grin on my face. When Mia finally got herself somewhat under control she slid over right beside me, leaned in with her head pretty much on my shoulder and said, “What looks good? Remember, nothing too heavy. I want to save room for some vegetables later.”

I gave her a ‘what are you talking about’ look.

“Popcorn,” she said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Corn’s a vegetable, right?”

I laughed. I liked that. It sounded like my kind of rationalization.

We talked about sharing a salad or some fish tacos, but somehow we got on the topic of nachos and both of us kind of decided that we liked them and hadn’t had them in a long time and really had a craving for them. And possibly they wouldn’t be that filling so we could have popcorn at the movies.

It was my turn for rationalization. “I’ve worked hard at spin class this week. I think I’ve earned this.” Mia agreed, so it was decided.

Ashley wandered back over and seemed to notice our new seating arrangement, with Mia snuggled right up next to me, almost on my lap. She gave what I assumed was a tight little “oh, I see,” smiles and then pulled out her pen and pad to take our order. 

I have to admit, it felt a little strange, like she was judging us in some way. I’d experienced prejudices more than once in my life, and I found it always left me feeling angry and impotent. It wasn’t a good feeling. It kind of sapped a little of the joy out of my heart.

After she left, I wondered if I should say anything to Mia. She still seemed all giddy, so I decided I wouldn’t ruin that. Maybe I’d just imagined it? What did I know. This was all new to me. Whatever this was.

Mia might have separated an inch or two from me, because it was easier to talk that way, but so much for her ‘backing off and giving me space’. Yep, that was all out the window it seemed. I’d really played that well, hadn’t I?

We just chatted and sipped our drinks while we waited for the food. It was like being at the Met, or like our conversations on the phone . . . it was all so easy and fun just being with Mia. 

When the food arrived I made a point to not look at our waitress again. Mia was giggling about it, but for me the reason was different this time. 

She asked if we wanted more drinks. I hadn’t even realized it, but I had almost drained my cider. We both ordered another one. 

I made a mental note that this would definitely be my last. I wasn’t a big drinker. My hundred and fifteen (or so) pound body wasn’t terribly effective at absorbing alcohol, and maybe even worse, I had this thing where after a couple of drinks, my face started to get flushed. It was embarrassing, because it made me look like I was really being affected by the alcohol – even worse than I probably was. It was just some genetic thing, but it was really annoying. And I thought I’d shared enough of my flaws with Mia tonight. No point overloading the poor girl.

We talked and ate, and laughed and ate some more, and had our drinks and talked even more. When I finally checked the time it was five after seven. The showing I had planned on seeing was supposed to start at six fifty. We’d totally missed it. 

I gave a little, “Oh,” and used my phone to check on the next showing. There was another one at seven thirty. I figured we could leave in five or ten minutes and make that one, no problem. So back to the chatting, interrupted by a quick trip to the bathroom, and then some more deep and very personal discussions, and of course lots of laughter. 

The next time I looked at my phone it was seven thirty-five. 

“Shit,” I said, and then covered my mouth like the word was a burp or something, and I had no idea how it managed to escape my lips. 

Yes, occasionally I do have a bit of a potty mouth, as my mother would say. I guess it was time for Mia to see the real me with all my blemishes. Or maybe just time to add to the already lengthy list of faults I’d already shown her. 

Either way it didn’t seem to be putting her off. She just laughed at me as I fiddled with my phone. “Okay, next showing is at . . . eight twenty-five,” I told her. 

It was starting to get a bit late for a mid-week movie. We looked at each other and I think we were sharing the same thought. “Maybe we’ll just have to give it a pass tonight,” Mia finally said. “We could always just sit and talk instead.”

“And finish the nachos,” I added as I scooped up a chip that was covered with cheese and sour cream that maybe Mia had been saving. Too bad . . . no save-sies with nachos. I’m sure that’s a universally recognized law.

So we sat there and talked some more. I was giggling and laughing so much my sides were beginning to ache. Yes, my abs and obliques were getting a terrific work out.

Our waitress wandered by to clear off the dishes and offer us more drinks. My brain was saying, “No no no,” but once again it didn’t seem to be in control. Mia ordered one more and I hated to see her drink alone, so I ordered one too.

Apparently our potentially scandalous ‘situation’ had become old news, because Ashley certainly didn’t seem to show any signs now that she cared one way or another. It didn’t matter to me. I’d already decided her boobs weren’t that great after all.

When she asked about dessert, my alcohol pickled brain seemed to perk up. “Maybe we’ll take a look at what’s on the menu,” I immediately responded without even consulting with Mia. See, there were some decisions I could make on my own. And dessert only seemed fair, given that we weren’t getting our popcorn.

Ashley wandered off to get our drinks while Mia and I huddled around the dessert menu. My eyes landed immediately on the chocolate lava cake. I didn’t need to know the details. Everything relevant was in the name. 

“How about that one,” I asked Mia. 

When I have a couple of drinks in me, I’m not so subtle about letting people know what I want. 

Mia read the menu. “It has vanilla ice cream,” she told me, like she was certain this would be a deal breaker for me.

“That’s okay,” I told her. “You like vanilla ice cream, so you can have that . . . and I’ll have the cake.” 

I gave her my best winning smile and was pretty certain she had bought into my idea. But the whole thing quickly fell apart when she made a completely unreasonable demand to have some of the cake too. Well wasn’t she being a piggy, wanting all the ice cream and cake too! I was certainly seeing another side of Mia! Just kidding. It was all a joke. 

We ordered the cake with two forks and started in on our drinks. 

We’d been giggly before, but now we were definitely losing it. 

“I don’t think I should have had another drink,” Mia admitted after only one sip. 

I just giggled and said, “Yeah, you get really silly when you’ve had a couple of drinks.” 

She mentioned that she thought perhaps I was the silly one. Either way, there was plenty of silly to go around, and plenty of laughing and talking and the odd ‘friendly’ hug. 

I think Mia had her hand on mine pretty much the whole evening, but I made no attempt to pull it away. It made me feel close to her and that made me feel good.

I did make an exception with the hand holding when the chocolate lava cake arrived. It’s best not to get between me and anything chocolate – especially when I have a few drinks in me. Mia found out. 

When she tried to take her first piece of cake, I jabbed her with my fork. 

She yanked her hand back in surprise and looked at me like I was crazy.

“You just get the ice cream,” I told her sternly as I held my fork out, ready to repel any further attempts on her part. 

I just couldn’t keep that serious face, though, and in a matter of seconds I went from fierce Amazon guarding a valued treasure to giggling fool who thought she might be in need of a ‘wet clean up’ if she didn’t get herself under control.

I had to admit, it was a real Mastercard moment though – the look on Mia’s face when I poked her with my fork was totally priceless. I wish I could have gotten a picture. 

I was almost gasping for air I was laughing so hard. Mia took the opportunity to steal a healthy bit of the cake. She stuffed it into her mouth and then stuck her chocolate covered tongue out at me. 

I guess it was my turn to show that utterly shocked and somewhat outraged face. It must have been a good one, because Mia started laughing and then almost gagged on the big piece of cake in her mouth.

I pointed at her and said, “Ha, serves you right for being a piggy.” 

We both seemed to find the word ‘piggy’ particularly funny, and so we started with another wave of laughter. Yes, this laugh-fest was right up there with the best of our laughing fits at the Met. Of course this one was alcohol enhanced, so there were no attempts to manage our volume or concerns about us disturbing other people. Luckily the place was still pretty empty.

When she finally got herself somewhat under control Mia pushed her drink away and said, “I don’t think I’d better finish that. Otherwise you might be carrying me home.”

I thought that was pretty clear thinking, so I figured I’d best follow her lead. I looked up and happened to see Ashley looking over our way. Maybe it was because it was a slow night and she was just checking on us, but I was thinking maybe she’d just got word that the ‘giggling drunks over in the booth should be cut off immediately’.

I waved her over. I think she might have been afraid we wanted another round. She seemed relieved (maybe that was my imagination) when I ordered a cup of coffee instead. Normally I don’t drink coffee in the evening, but its not like I was thinking totally clearly. Otherwise, I probably would have gone for decaf at least.

Mia just asked for some water. 

When Ashley headed off we went back to work on the cake. We were acting a little more civil now. I let Mia have a couple of bites of cake – though I made sure she didn’t get carried away – and I even tried it with the ice cream. Surprisingly I found it was actually a good combination. Who knew?

Maybe we’d worn ourselves out with all of our laughing and silliness, or maybe it was just the effects of the alcohol, but our conversations now seemed a little more subdued. We talked a little about our work and our lives and our past. I knew Mia worked at one of the local hospitals but I didn’t realize she was a physical therapist. 

When she found out I did accounting (I tried to explain it was more financial analysis, but she didn’t see the difference) she was shocked. “You? An accountant? No way! That’s not possible! You’re not near boring enough.”

“Be careful,” I warned her. “I’m more the Ben Affleck type of accountant. So make sure you don’t piss me off.” From the grin she gave me I assumed she’d seen the movie.

It was a nice, pleasant, intimate conversation. We were still sitting close together, Mia still had her hand on mine, and I was still feeling all warm and fuzzy and otherwise quite contented.

There was a pause in the conversation. We just sort of stared at each other, both of us smiling quite happily and enjoying our own perfect little world.

After a long, lingering moment Mia eyes fell away, and then she started speaking, almost a little sheepishly. “About what I said earlier,” she began. “I really hope I’m not pushing things too fast. I don’t think I am, but . . . . If I’m going too fast, just let me know . . . just talk to me. I don’t want to ruin what we have. Just let me know how you feel.”

I gave her a weak smile and without even thinking said, “I don’t even know how I feel. Well . . . I think I know how I feel . . . but this . . . you know, with a woman . . . this is all new to me. I’m trying to understand it, but . . . .”

I saw a strange, kind of confused look come over Mia’s face. It took me a moment to even realize what I’d said. This confusion and uncertainty had been consuming me for days. It had completely filled my mind. I’d spent so much time and energy trying to figure out how to explain it to Mia . . . and now, just like that, it came slipping out without me even necessarily intending for it to.

That thing that I really, really needed to talk to Mia about, but that I hadn’t found a way to say. Well, now it was out there. 

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe just the relief of finally opening up, but whatever the reason, now that I’d started, it just came pouring out.

I confessed everything, as best as I could put it into words. And while I spoke, I tried my hardest to keep my confused emotions in check. I had a lot of pent up stress and feelings that threatened to overwhelm me.

I told Mia that I’d never dated a woman before . . . had never even considered the idea of dating one. I tried to be honest with her – and with myself too – when I told her how much I loved spending time with her and talking with her and thinking about her. I smiled, gave her hand a squeeze and added a little sheepishly, “. . . and holding hands with you.” I confessed that she was probably all I’d thought about, one way or another, since we’d met.

“You make me feel happy,” I started, and then had to pause while I struggled with the right words. I felt a little tear forming at the corner of my eye and I quickly wiped it away. I took a deep breath and continued. “No, more than just happy. You make me feel . . . all warm and fuzzy inside . . . I don’t know if that even makes any sense.” 

It was kind of frustrating trying to put it into words, because I just couldn’t seem to find the right ones to fully describe my feelings. I knew that part of the problem was that I was still trying to understand how it was that I actually felt.

When I was done, I felt emotionally drained, but better for having gotten all of this off my chest. The fact that Mia hadn’t left in disgust or wasn’t looking at me like I’d totally betrayed her was certainly helping.

She had what I’d call a neutral look on her face. I guess this was a lot to process, coming at her like it was just out of the blue.

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “I really, really am. I didn’t mean to lie to you or give you the wrong impression. I really didn’t. I just . . . I just need you to be a little patient with me while I try to figure it out . . . .” 

I wiped another tear from the corner of my eye, gave her a warm smile and squeezed her hand. “Or probably what I mean to say is I need to come to terms with whatever this is . . . between you and me. Because I know I really do care about you and I really don’t want to not have you in my life.”

Okay, that was a pretty telling statement. I felt extremely nervous saying it, but I knew in my heart that it was completely true. Enough kidding myself. I really did want Mia in my life. 

As more than a ‘friend’? Honestly, she already felt like she was something very different from any other ‘friend’ I’d ever had. I knew I had stronger feeling for her than any guy I could think of that I’d gone out with. Not that I’d ever been terribly serious with any of the guys I’d dated. 

But was what I felt for Mia the same as ‘wanting to go out and date and be a couple’? I really wasn’t sure. I honestly didn’t know if I could have that kind of a relationship with Mia. That’s what I needed to figure out.

Here I was, absorbed in this inner conversation when I felt Mia squeeze my hands. I raised my eyes to see she was smiling at me. She slid over and gave me a hug that seemed like it was going to last forever. I wasn’t complaining. I slipped my arms around her and hugged her right back. It was so nice. It made my whole body feel warm and filled me with incredible joy. 

I suddenly got this nervous thought. “Was this a good bye hug?” I found myself clinging to her even tighter. I certainly didn’t want to give this up.

When Mia finally let me go she moved back a foot or so. She looked at me with those big brown eyes. I’m sure she could see the nervousness – or maybe it was even fear – on my face. Almost to reassure me she gave my hands a big squeeze and shot me that brilliant smile of hers. 

I felt instantly relieved. I just couldn’t help smiling back at her. 

Finally she said, “Emily, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize . . . .”

I held up a hand and cut her off. “You don’t have to apologize,” I told her. “You didn’t know. It’s all my fault for not being honest with you right from the start.”

Mia gave me a little grin. “In a way, I’m glad you didn’t tell me,” she confessed. “I probably wouldn’t have chased after you if you’d told me. Then I wouldn’t have ever gotten to know you.” She paused, before adding, “And you never would have gotten to know just how wonderful I am. Just think how sad that would have been for you.”

Now I was grinning too. God, it felt good. 


	13. Chapter 13

All this time I’d spent with Mia had been fantastic, but there had always been this dark cloud lurking just on the horizon, threatening everything. I felt its presence all the time and I had lived in fear of it suddenly erupting into a storm that could tear apart everything that we had (yes, very melodramatic!). It had really weighed on me.

I consider myself a good person and an honest friend, so having that constant sense that I was misleading Mia – someone I truly cared about – had been a strain and had darkened the image I had of myself.

But now, it was like all that weight had been lifted off of me. All that stress and uncertainty and guilt I’d been carrying around for days just evaporated. I felt good about myself again. 

Well, the stress was almost all gone. There was still that little questions – what exactly was this with me and Mia?

I realized that I was in need of reassurances. Yeah, I know I’m so needy. But I had to hear it directly from Mia. I had to know how she felt.

So I asked, a little shyly, “So . . . can you be patient with me? Can you give me a little time to figure things out?”

Mia hugged me again and said, “Of course. I think you know how I feel about you. You already got to hear me babbling like an idiot about how you make me feel and how I don’t want to ruin what we have – whatever it is, I guess – by being too pushy. I’ll give you all the time you need.” 

She sat back and gave me a firm look before continuing. “You just need to be honest with me . . . and yourself . . . about what it is you need. I don’t want you saying things or doing things because you think its what I want, or because you’re trying to make me happy. You have to be completely comfortable with whatever we do. That’s what will make me happy.” 

She paused and gave me that big, adoring smile that always made me feel so special. “You make me happy just spending time with me. I’m more than happy with that until you figure things out.”

We went back to hug mode. I felt great. My heart was all aflutter and my grin was so wide it threatened to cause permanent damage to my face. I could have stayed there forever just holding Mia. 

But of course the real world came poking into our idyllic little scene . . . in the most uninspired way. I squirmed a little. I squeezed my legs together. Finally I whispered in Mia’s ear, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.” Yikes! Mood killer!

“Yep, I’ve got to go too,” Mia responded. We quickly separated, grabbed our purses and headed to the lady’s room. 

“I dibs the first stall,” I called as I cut in front of Mia right at the bathroom door. I heard her muttering, “No fair,” but it was too late. I was already through the door, into the stall and emptying my bladder, not a second too soon. Luckily there was a second empty stall, so Mia didn’t have to stand outside cursing me – and probably reconsidering that whole ‘friends’ thing.

Afterwards we decided it was getting late and maybe we’d better head out. We paid our tab and left. We walked towards the train station in silence, our bodies very close to each other. Mia was keeping her word and not being too pushy, I realized, and I appreciated her for it. But I slipped my hand into hers and held onto it. I glanced over at her and gave her a smile. I wasn’t joking when I’d said I enjoyed holding hands with her. It really did make me feel good.

On Sunday we’d walked to the train station after the Met holding hands, but that day I’d been oblivious to everything but Mia. The street tonight wasn’t busy, but there were a few people around and I noticed at least some of them casting glances our way as we passed. I can’t say any of them gave us ugly or negative looks. But I was still conscious of them looking. 

I turned to Mia and asked, “How do you deal with it . . . people looking at you like you’re doing something wrong?”

Mia just sighed and shrugged. I guess she knew this was a talk she was going to eventually have with me. 

“You get use to it, I guess,” she told me. “You just learn to accept you’re different and people always look at anything that’s different. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with it. It’s just different, so it gets their attention. Besides, at the end of the day, I don’t really care what some total stranger thinks about me.”

She paused for a moment, and then added, “I’m sure you’ve had guys stare at you just because you’re a woman. I bet you don’t ever go out anywhere without having some guys at some point checking you out. 

“Some like what they see – okay, let’s be honest, I’m sure with you they all like what they see. But just like that, you get use to it and after a while it barely registers. And like I said, in the end, whatever they think doesn’t really matter. Whatever we have is between you and me. So I care what you think . . . but some random person on the street? I couldn’t care less.”

It made perfect sense. That didn’t make me any less self-conscious, though. But I wasn’t put off enough to let go of Mia’s hand. 

We caught the next train and grabbed a seat near the back of the car where we could sit side by side. I was pressed tight up against Mia, my hand was in hers, and I laid my head on her shoulder. It was only a ten minute ride to Mia’s stop, and then mine was two stops later. 

We didn’t really talk. I was still feeling drained from my earlier confessions. Shedding all that emotional baggage had been exhausting. So I just enjoyed sitting there all snuggled up next to her. I couldn’t have been any more contented.

When we were just about to her stop she mentioned that she had to work the next evening. I turned to stare at her and take in the last few minutes of our time together. 

“I’ll call you after work,” she said. 

I nodded and said, “You’d better.”

“And don’t you forget about your spin class,” she told me. It was like she knew how I’d almost blown off the class on Tuesday. 

“Because if you think I’m going to take it easy on you on Saturday just because your my . . . special friend. Is that what I’m calling you? I think we need a better name than that.”

I shrugged and said, “I don’t know, I certainly seem to be a person with ‘special needs’. . . so maybe ‘special friend’ is right.”

Mia gave me a little smile. “You’re such a goof,” she said. Hmm, I think maybe she really meant it. I guess she was finally getting to know the real me.

As the train rolled into her station she gave me a hug. She sat back for a few seconds, and just stared at me and smiled. She put a finger to my chin, turned my head sideways and gave me a light, lingering kiss on the cheek.

“See you later, beautiful,” she whispered as she rose and headed towards the door. She paused when she got there, and gave me a little wave together with one more shot of that big beautiful smile of hers. Once she stepped onto the platform, she just stood there, still smiling, with her eyes locked on mine until the train rolled away. We both waved . . . and then she was gone.

I just reached my stop when my phone buzzed. There was a message from Mia.

“Made it home. Miss you already. Talk to you later.” There was a smiley emoji and a heart emoji.

“You’re just so needy!” I texted her back. Then I sent a second text. “Miss you too!” I thought about it for a couple of seconds, and then added two heart emojis to my text and sent it. I realized I felt perfectly fine with that. 

I don’t know if it was really the first time I’d had this thought . . . maybe it had just been floating around near the surface, but still in my subconscious . . . but now I found myself actually thinking it. “I think I have a girlfriend.” I certainly hadn’t resolved all of my issues, but I just couldn’t deny how intense my feelings were for Mia. And I was happy to realize that the thought didn’t freak me out.

I had a girlfriend. Well, this was going to shock a few people.


	14. Chapter 14

I’d slid into bed that night feeling tired and excited and uncertain and contented and probably about a dozen other confusing, conflicting emotions. But regardless of all my uncertainties, I was smiling and feeling extremely happy. 

My head was filled with a hundred images of Mia. I had no uncertainty at all about how that made me feel. She was the center of the overwhelming joy I felt. I drifted off to a contented slumber thinking about her.

When I woke the next morning I was still smiling. I had an old song I’d always liked bouncing around in my head. I didn’t have a clue who sang it, but it was light and airy and upbeat and matched my mood. “Walking on sunshine, woo-woo, and don’t it feel good!” My new official theme song? Well, for today anyway.

Mia and I had continued texting the night before when I’d gotten home – nothing special, I guess, just goofy stuff – and we started up again in the morning. I was running late because I couldn’t seem to put my phone down. How millennial of me. I had to sprint to catch the train before the doors closed, but then at least I had twenty minutes to text with Mia. Of course that’s more challenging than it sounds when you’re standing, jammed between a mob of other people, being jostled around by the train. I managed it like a pro, though. That’s me, iPhone ninja. 

I thought it would have been nice to meet up with Mia in the morning, but who had time, and anyway, we were kind of going in different directions. Lunch wasn’t too practical either – by the time we met up, we’d probably only have ten minutes or so before we’d have to head back. But I was contented with my texting, at least for now. 

I completely abandoned my policy of ignoring my phone at work that day. Luckily Mia wasn’t too bad – I assume when she was working with patients, she couldn’t be standing there playing on her phone. Every time I heard my phone vibrate, though, I immediately grabbed it. I was too giddy to worry about the wrath of my boss.

More than one person made a comment on my good mood. It made me wonder what kind of mood I was typically in around the office. I thought I was generally quite happy and upbeat. Maybe this was just another whole level up in the upbeat, though. It wouldn’t surprise me. 

When Amy saw me smiling and working and bopping along to the music only I heard (walking on sunshine, woo-woo, and don’t it feel good!) she knew immediately something was up.

“So you and Mia had a good date last night?” she asked. 

I’m sure she expected to get a rise out of my by calling it a ‘date’, but I just smiled up at her and said, “Yeah, it was great.”

She paused for a second. I could see wheels turning in her head. She knew she was onto something and, being Amy, she needed – yes, needed – to know more details. She pulled up a stool right beside me and using her cube-farm whisper asked, “What happened last night? Tell me everything. Are you two, you know, a thing or something?”

I just gave her a blank look. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” I said in my most even, uninterested voice. “I told you, Mia and I had a good time. I’m not sure what else to tell you.”

“Bullshit,” she almost spat at me, and then had to calm herself back down so everyone on the floor didn’t hear her. “I don’t believe you. I can tell. You’re acting different today. I can see it in your face. So tell me what’s up.”

I gave her just a little smile. “Oh, do you mean I seem happy today?” I asked, and when she nodded I said, “I’m sure that’s because I finally figured out the issue we were having in our inventory. I sent some questions off to the warehouse, but I’m pretty sure I know what they did wrong. So, yeah, that’s a real weight off my shoulders.”

Amy looked like she was going to explode. Or maybe reach out and strangle me. Yes, it was always fun messing with Amy when she was on the hunt for dirt. 

She finally stared me down. I couldn’t help myself. I started grinning and then laughing. And yes, I was laughing at her. Amy can get so over the top intense when she’s thinks there’s some juicy news out there that hasn’t been shared with her. She’s right up there with my mother in that area . . . only not as scary.

I’d had my fun, though, so I finally spilled to her. I told her Mia and I had a great ‘date’. Yes, I used that word, just for the fun of it. I told her we didn’t end up going to the movies, but just sat and talked instead. I mentioned that I’d finally confessed my ‘slight’ deception, and that Mia had been really supportive when she found out.

Amy was on the edge of her seat, just about vibrating with excitement. Wow, this must have been even juicier than I thought. 

“So, where did you leave it,” she demanded when I’d gotten to the end of my story.

I had to give her a look and tell her to calm herself. I actually liked being able to share all this with someone, and Amy really was a perfect person to talk to about it. But I wasn’t ready to share it with all the people on the floor just yet.

Like a shark popping up out of the water when you least expect it, my boss poked his head over the cube wall and asked, “What’s going on here? Are you two gossiping? Haven’t you got any work to do, because I can find some for you if you need.”

What a helpful guy. But I just gave him a big smile and said, “Just confirming some facts, but I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out the inventory problem. I think the warehouse guys aren’t entering the right information when they’re getting shipments in. Hopefully I’ll know for sure by the end of the day, and if that’s it, we can get this fixed up before the year end.”

The boss looked from me to Amy and then back. I was pretty sure he had no idea Amy was in HR and had absolutely nothing to do with inventory or anything I dealt with. It didn’t matter. The boss just nodded his head, said, “Good work, Davis,” gave one final nod, and headed off to check on some other corner of his empire. 

Of course my name isn’t Davis. I have no idea who Davis is. I certainly don’t look like a Davis, so I don’t have the slightest clue where that came from. Oh well, I’ll take what praise I can get, and hope that ‘Davis’ doesn’t get my year end bonus for fixing the issue with the inventory.

That little interruption did nothing to distract Amy. When important things are happening, she can focus like a hawk. Or a serial stalker, maybe.

Anyway, as soon as the boss was out of earshot she was back to interrogating me. “So, you and Mia. Have things gotten serious? What’s up now?” At least she had lowered her tone a little. 

I just grinned . . . I couldn’t help grinning when I thought of Mia . . . and told Amy the truth. “I don’t know. We’re . . . I guess kind of going out, I suppose.” It felt so strange saying that out loud. But the thought made my heart beat a little faster I’m sure, and it made me feel all warm and happy inside. 

“It’s complicated,” I continued. It was so hard to put into words. “Mia said she’d give me time to figure it out. I’m really still trying to understand it. I really like her . . . kind of, I guess, but I don’t know . . . can I really go out with her . . . like a relationship? I don’t know.”

If Amy was looking for some clear answer to her question, she’d come to the wrong person. But she seemed happy with what she got. I guess we’d talked enough that she realized it was a strange, confusing situation.

She told me if I needed to talk more, if I thought it would help in any way, she was there for me. Good old Amy. She really was a true friend and I knew I could count on her if I needed it. 

One thing I wasn’t so sure I could count on her for, though, was keeping this quiet. So I told her, “You can’t tell anyone about this, right? I’m just not ready yet to go public with Mia and all this. Hey, I don’t even know what all this is. So you’ll keep it to yourself, right?”

I knew if I asked, Amy would. I could see it was killing her, though, sitting on a juicy piece of gossip like this. I’m sure she had already been mentally going through a phone list of people we’d known in college who she’d planned to call. Yes, I was asking a lot, but I was confident Amy would keep my secret. For now, at least. 

I half expected Amy to be like the reporter in one of those movies where they’re convince to sit on a story for some very noble reason. “Yeah, sure, I’ll do it for you, but I want first shot at it when the story’s ready to break.” She didn’t say it, but I think she was sure it was implied.

Almost to herself I heard her say, “Hard to believe we lived together for two years at college.”

It seemed like a strange comment, so I just had to ask, “What?”

She shrugged. “You know, with you and Mia. I guess with us being so close during college . . . .”

Yep, very weird. I couldn’t stop myself, though. “So what, you think I should have hit on you when we were living together?”

“Ewww, no,” she responded almost as a reflex, and then seemed to realize maybe that wasn’t the most appropriate thing to say. 

“No, I’m not saying that, Ems, you know . . . just when you’re living together and really good friends like we were you think you know everything about a person. I mean, those dorm rooms . . . I think there are prison cells that are bigger than those, so . . . yeah, you really get to know someone. I really got to know you pretty well. We were best friends. So this whole thing . . . with Mia . . . it’s just a bit of a surprise for me. A total surprise.”

I kind of knew what she was saying. Hey, this whole thing was a total surprise to me too. I guess I just felt a little off about her automatic, “Ewww” response, like maybe what I was doing with Mia was repulsive or something. 

I knew I was overanalyzing again, and that probably at worst it was Amy just expressing that this wasn’t something for her. That’s fine. We all don’t have to like the same things. I hate calamari. I still hadn’t convinced my mother of it, after twenty-three years, but it’s really not my thing (they’re slimy little squid . . . ewww – now that’s how that word should be used!). So intellectually I could understand. But I still felt a little hurt or offended or something.

I did my best to just shrug it off. I told Amy it was nothing, but this time I think she knew me well enough to know that wasn’t totally true. 

After a couple more minutes of chatting she said she had to get back and I turned back to my work. It took me a bit to get that feeling to go away, but a couple of texts from Mia did the trick. Yep, after that I was back to ‘walking on sunshine’ (and don’t it feel good!).

The rest of the day seemed to fly by, but then I was busy with work except when I took my regular Mia breaks. The boss almost caught me in the middle of a text, but I palmed the phone surprisingly well and confirmed to him that I’d gotten to the bottom of the inventory issue that we’d been having. Now this had been an example of using my obsessiveness for good . . . I’d spent a good month digging through this. 

The boss actually seemed pleased. I’m sure Davis was in his good books now. Way to go, Davis.

I had thought about seeing if Mia and I could get together after work, even for an hour or whatever, but she said she had to work a little late, and then had to go directly to her evening classes. And she reminded me one more time that I had my own spin class to get to. That kept slipping my mind. It was like I was distracted or something.

Mia promised she’d call as soon as she got home. I really did want to see her, but it didn’t look like it was going to work out. Now who was being needy?

So I went to my spin class – it was a good distraction. Afterwards I stuck around the gym a bit and did some strength training and a run on the treadmill. Did someone have a little pent up energy they had to deal with? Yeah, maybe.

I got home, showered, and had a yogurt and a banana as my healthy supper. I had checked for ice cream but there was none . . . so I had to settle. Probably just as well.

I put on the fuzzy pajamas and curled up on my couch under my fuzzy blanket with my phone nestled on my lap. I watched a little TV, but was mostly just killing time until Mia called.

She texted me when she left her gym and said she was on the train and would be home in about fifteen minutes. I texted with her while she rode the train. Yes I was needy.

Mia’s last text from the train said she needed to shower and grab a bite to eat when she got home – how inconsiderate. Didn’t she know I was waiting to talk to her (so, so, so, so, needy!!).

I waited impatiently. Every minute seemed like an hour. This was pathetic, I realized. Was this how a crack addict felt waiting for their next fix? Was that me . . . a Mia addict? 

Well, at least the side effects were reasonably minor . . . restlessness, inability to focus, irritability, unusual cravings for ice cream, cold feet (okay, those might have been unrelated). If I threw in dry mouth, bloating, headaches or diarrhea it would sound like the possible side effects for half the new medications you hear advertised on TV.

I tried closing my eyes, clearing my mind and breathing deeply. Yes, I’d meditate. I’d be one with the universe . . . everywhere and nowhere at the same time . . . my mind just aimlessly floating . . . peacefully . . . wondering . . . where the hell Mia was??

Okay, that little distraction lasted a good thirty seconds. I guess I wasn’t destined to be a Buddhist monk or something. Just as well. I’d look ridiculous with my head shaved. I’d probably look like a ten year old boy . . . on chemo. Whoa, kids on chemo wasn’t something to make light of. I really was being a bit irritable.

Then I felt my phone vibrate and all was well again. I was getting my fix. That big goofy smile burst out on my face and those butterflies in my tummy seemed to get a caffeine jolt and started frantically fluttering all around inside of me. And, yep, it was back (walking on sunshine, woo-woo, and don’t it feel good).

Mia sounded just as happy as I was to be talking . . . even though she’d taken her sweet time! Okay, it had only been fifteen minutes since she’d last texted me, and she’d walked home, showered, changed, and grabbed a bite to eat. Actually, she apologized because she had called first, and was snacking as we talked. I guess maybe I had to cut her a little slack.

So after all my impatient waiting, what important, earth-shattering, time-sensitive things did we talk about. I’ve honestly got no idea. We just talked. We talked about our day, and our lives, and or work, and things we’d done, and things we wanted to do and . . . just everything . . . and nothing. 

Things were still new enough that we had plenty to share about ourselves. Mia played the piano (oh yeah, those freaky long fingers), I played the oboe (past tense), she actually knitted to relax (cool), I just ate ice cream (also cool . . . get it?), she was a tech nerd (oh-oh – computers hate me), I really wasn’t (did I mention computers hate me), she was class president in high school (very impressive), I was a jock (soccer, basketball, track, and then golf and tennis in the summer – yeah, no one would have guessed it looking at me), she was a good student, but she hated math (oh no, cracks already appearing in our relationship . . . or whatever we were calling it), I was a straight A student (my parents were so proud).

The conversations came so easy and Mia made me laugh so much that I didn’t ever want to hang up. But the next thing we knew it was past midnight . . . again. We reluctantly said our good-nights.

“At least I’ll get to see you tomorrow,” Mia said, and I realized that she was looking forward to seeing me as much as I was looking forward to seeing her.

We’d made our plans. We were meeting up at an Italian restaurant that was just a few minutes from Mia’s place. We both knew Gino’s and we both loved it, so it was an easy decision. It took Mia a little longer to get home from work, so we agreed to meet there a little after six. That wasn’t giving us loads of time, but neither of us were complaining. I think we both just wanted to see each other as soon as we could. I was definitely good with that.

When I went to bed that night I was definitely still ‘walking on sunshine’ (woo-woo), and yeah, it definitely felt good.


	15. Chapter 15

I’d snuck out of work a little early Friday afternoon – hey, the boss thought I was ‘Davis’, so I was thinking, “Why not take advantage of that.” Actually, I’m pretty sure he was gone at about three, so it wasn’t really a big risk.

I hurried back to my place, and then rushed around getting ready for my . . . date . . . I guess. 

It had only been two days since I’d finally confessed my sins to Mia – and she’d forgiven me (not even any Hail Mary’s). Okay, she’d said she’d be patient with me while I worked at figuring out what it was I wanted . . . or, I guess, what I was actually comfortable with . . . with whatever it was the two of us had. 

I had started to think of us as a relationship, of some kind. I wasn’t sure if we were really (really) good friends or maybe something more than that. The way we’d been acting (yes, I was including myself in that), it definitely seemed like we were in the ‘something more’ category. I just wasn’t sure what that meant, at least for me.

I realized, though, that since Wednesday I hadn’t given any serious thought to what that ‘something more’ might be. Was I actually ‘in love’ with Mia? Could we be a ‘couple’ – like a kissing, holding hands, and maybe doing ‘even more’ couple? 

Well, we had certainly held hands . . . probably a little more than just good friends . . . and there were certainly some hugs that made me feel pretty good. But I was having troubles thinking about the ‘even more’ part. 

Did it mean anything that I was struggling even considering using that ‘l’ word in thinking about our relationship? Mia wasn’t shy about it. She was clearly a . . . well, one of those ‘l’ people . . . who preferred women. 

I was just being silly, I knew. It was just a word . . . a label. Did it really matter?

In my defense, this whole episode had kind of come out of the blue. It wasn’t like the ‘dating other women’ was ‘something I always kind of knew’ about myself. I know that’s the situation with some women. That just didn’t happen to be me.

I honestly couldn’t imagine having this kind of relationship with any other woman I knew. Amy was my closest friend, and I loved her (as a friend), but I really couldn’t image us holding hands and snuggling and even kissing. The whole image of that just felt weird. I wasn’t quite up to Amy’s ‘ewww’ reaction, but then I knew it was something that would definitely never happen.

But somehow when I thought of things like that with Mia . . . well, there was certainly no ‘ewww’ at all. 

I just hoped that Mia was prepared to be patient – quite possibly really patient – because I didn’t feel like I was any closer to figuring things out.

Maybe it was a bit telling that I was putting so much effort into getting ready for our . . . night out. Oh yeah . . . date. Whatever.

Or maybe I needed to consider the way I’d felt when my phone rang at seven that morning and I heard Mia saying, “Morning, beautiful.” I was so filled with joy that my heart felt like it might burst out of my chest. It was just a quick chat, but I loved it and it put me in an such a happy mood. Even though it meant I was running late and had to wait until work to grab my first cup of coffee.

Or possibly it was some kind of indication that I couldn’t stop thinking about seeing her that night. With things like that, it seemed to make the answer to my question obvious. 

But then other times I’d get this almost cold, logical side of me (just a passing acquaintance . . . not someone I’m all that familiar with) that would look at the situation and ask, “Is that really who you are, or is this just another little fantasy world you’ve dreamed up that really doesn’t exist. What will happen to the two of you out there in the real world.” 

I knew I’d already felt a little strange . . . maybe just sensitive because it was all so new . . . when I thought others were looking at us and judging us. Was that discomfort telling me something?

I was back and forth any time I thought about it. So my mature, adult solution was . . . to not think about it. I’d parked this whole ‘figuring out what I wanted’ thing and just focused on meeting up with Mia that evening. That thought made me happy. Yeah, real mature.

Needless to say, the day dragged. I was sure it must have been almost time to leave at one point, but when I checked the time on my computer it said it wasn’t even ten yet. Oh yeah . . . I hadn’t had lunch. Duh! Or was my computer lying to me? I mentioned that computers hate me, didn’t I?

Amy and I chatted at lunch, but of course all I wanted to talk about was Mia. Luckily, Amy was quite interested in that topic too. I think she was info gathering like some Russian spy trying to get at nuclear secrets. Yes, she’d want to have all her information for when she got the clearance to start gossiping (I mean sharing). 

I’m being maybe a little hard on Amy. She did seem actually interested. Maybe it was because the whole episode was so out of the ordinary and that made it intriguing, or maybe she was interested just because it was me and we were friends. Or more likely some combination of the two.

She really did want to be there for me, but, unfortunately, this was an area where neither of us had any experience. 

I asked about her cousin – I thought maybe we did have some first hand experience that could help us – but Amy said, “I think we all knew Jenna was a lesbian since she was about ten.” 

See, Amy had no problems with that ‘l’ word. I’d never had a problem with it before. What was my big deal? 

I impatiently worked my way through the afternoon. My computer continued to lie to me about the time (I swear, a few time when I checked it was earlier than the last time I’d checked. Very suspicious). My stress was only occasionally relieved when I got texts from Mia. Unfortunately, she was having a busy day, so she was tied up for most it.

Finally about four fifteen I’d had enough. I packed up and left. And as I said, I hurried back to my place to get ready.

One of the ways I’d distracted myself during the day was deciding what to wear. It had varied from a pair of jeans and a comfy sweatshirt (yep, just two friends out for a simple dinner) to a sexy little dress I’d worn to a friend’s wedding the summer before (it screamed, take me, I’m yours . . . it almost worked with one of the groomsmen at the wedding, but then he got a little drunk and I realized he wasn’t near as attractive as I’d thought). I decided on a pretty blouse and a short skirt. It was probably closer to the sexy dress than the jeans and sweatshirt, but I was okay with that. 

I fixed my hair and put on just a little make up and I was ready to go. It was a nice day out, but since I had heels on, I decided against walking and took the train.

I was at Gino’s just shortly after six. This time I beat Mia to the restaurant, so I asked for a table in a nice quiet back corner (I’m sure the hostess thought I was hooking up with a hot date . . . although maybe that wasn’t far from the truth). I figured Gino’s would get busy on a Friday night. I guess I knew almost instinctively that I’d be more comfortable at a quiet, out of the way table where the whole restaurant couldn’t stare at us. Was I starting to sound paranoid?

I texted Mia to tell her I was there, and she sent back that she was on her way. A few minutes later I saw her walk through the door. I noticed she’d opted for the jeans, so I hoped I wasn’t over-dressed. 

The restaurant was a little dim, so it took her a minute to spot me. When she did, though, I saw that huge smile light up on her face. Like I’ve said before, knowing that you inspire such an amazing smile is really uplifting. It just made my heart soar. Okay, so what was I uncertain about again?

When Mia came over I stood and gave her a big hug. I saw her run her eyes over me as she leaned in to hug me. Before she pulled away she gave me a light little kiss on the cheek and whispered in my ear, “You look beautiful.” 

I’d gotten use to Mia’s comments (who doesn’t like to be told they look beautiful), and I had no problem with the hug, but it felt strange being looked at that way by a woman. It’s not like every second guy I pass on the street doesn’t check me out. Even in the time I’d been in this restaurant, I’d had guys looking me over like they were a dog and I was a big juicy steak. 

But I guess in the time I’d know her, Mia had never openly ‘checked me out’ that way. And it’s not that it even really bothered me. I guess I’d dressed this way to look attractive. So wasn’t it sort of like she was complimenting me? But had I dressed that way for Mia, or just for my own self-confidence? I really wasn’t sure . . . probably both. I really had to stop over-analyzing!

I kind of understood what my issue was. That look had maybe been the first open suggestion that there was possibly a sexual side to our relationship (yeah, still total denial). My mind had purposely never gone there. We were back to that ‘l’ word stuff that I seemed to be struggling with. 

I gave my head a little shake and tried to push it aside. More of my mature approach to problem solving – bury it and (maybe) deal with it later.

Luckily for me, while all those thoughts were rushing through my head, Mia had her back to me as she slipped off her coat and hung it up. When she turned around she was grinning. It took me a fraction of a second to notice the top she’d worn with her jeans. It was a quite low cut and her boobs were very much standing up at attention and on display. Ah, the wonders of a push up bra. The teen aged boy in me seemed to be admiring Mia quite openly. Okay, I guess I was no better than Mia had been.

When I finally looked back up I found myself blushing a little bit. I hadn’t spent so much time staring at Mia’s boobs since that first day in spin class. And look where that got me!

She seemed quite pleased with herself as we sat. “I thought if I wore this you wouldn’t be quite so distracted by our waitress,” she teased. That just made me blush a little more which Mia seemed to enjoy.

Gino’s, unfortunately, had basic tables, so there would be no sitting all snuggled together like we’d done on Wednesday. Mia reached across the table, though, and I let her take my hand. 

We just sat there for a minute, grinning at each other, before she finally said, “It’s good to see you.”

I immediately found myself saying, “Yeah, it seems like its been so long. I’ve missed seeing you, too. I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

It’s amazing what comes out when you just open up and let it flow, unfiltered. I guess that’s how you really get to the truth.

“I’m glad to hear,” Mia responded. She did a quick glance down at her chest, gave me a crooked little smile and added, “I wanted to give you a little bit more to appreciate when you’re thinking about me.”

My eyes had naturally followed hers directly to her boobs, and then I was blushing again. Mia just laughed gleefully. Yes, she was having fun.

I gave her hand a hard squeeze and whined, “Now you’re being mean. I haven’t seen this side of you before.”

She gave me an innocent look, and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I couldn’t hold my fake hurt look. In a second I was grinning and then we were both laughing.

We made small talk until the waiter came. Mia didn’t really need to be worried about me being distracted by our waiter. His name was Marco, he was maybe fifty, balding, and maybe he’d had a few too many plates of Gino’s pasta in his time. He seemed like a nice man and he was very friendly to the two of us. 

“Buonasera, bella signorina, welcome to Gino’s,” he said in a pronounced Italian accent as he poured us two glasses of water. He told us the specials and then asked if we wanted any drinks. We agreed we’d share a bottle of wine – hey, it was Friday night, why not. 

“Tomorrow’s Saturday and it’s not like I have to get up early and do anything,” I said.

Mia promptly reminded me about our spin class. 

I grinned at her. “Oops, I forgot.” I paused, and after a second added, “Well, really, I know you have to be there, but if I’m feeling . . . you know, a little under the weather . . . it’s not like I _have_ to be there.”

Mia’s response was firm. “Yes. You have to be there.” 

It seemed that was the end of that discussion. I just laughed at her. “I can see already,” I told her, “that you’re going to be the mean mom. You’ll never let your kids slack off and have any fun.”

Mia gave me a little grin, arched a brow and said, “And I suppose you’re going to be the fun mom . . . little miss super competitive, always has to win. Those kids aren’t ever going to be slacking off”

Apparently I’d already told her too much about myself. I liked to think of myself as pretty easy going, but Mia was absolutely right – when it came to things like sports and school, I was ridiculously competitive.

“Oh, we’re going to make a great pair of moms,” Mia continued, “Our poor kids.” She stopped a little suddenly and I could almost see her tense. 

She maybe hadn’t meant it the way it sounded, but I think we both suddenly got the impression she was talking about us being moms . . . together. 

The odd thing is, if some guy had ever made a comment about the two of us having kids together, especially after only knowing each other a week, I would have freaked out and turned and ran. But with Mia . . . I just found myself smiling at her. No freaking out at all. Instead, it seemed like a very intimate moment. 

We’d never talked about the future in that kind of detail. I knew I probably wanted kids some day . . . in the distant future . . . when I stopped acting like a kid myself. Mia certainly gave the impression she felt the same. Just something else we agreed on. I gave her hand a little squeeze to let her know I wasn’t freaking out, and we sat there for a minute just smiling at each other.

We eventually moved past our moment and started chatting again until Marco brought our wine. When he asked if we were ready to order we did our “we haven’t looked at the menu yet, can you give us a minute.” It was getting to be a thing with us in restaurants. 

Eventually Marco circled back to get our order and to drop off some bread. Yum. Good thing he hadn’t done that the last time around, or I probably still wouldn’t have looked at the menu.

“Mine,” I immediately declared. I just love the warm, heavy bread they had at Gino’s. I covered a piece in garlic butter and devoured it like I hadn’t eaten in a week. 

“Wow, this is as bad as the whole lava cake incident,” Mia muttered as she tried to get a piece of the bread without getting poked by my knife. 

I was totally letting my guard down now. Mia was getting a full view of me and all my crazy quirks. At least she still seemed to be laughing at them. 

The kitchen was surprisingly quick. We hadn’t even had time to finish off our first glass of wine when the meals arrived. I guess we’d gotten there early enough to beat the rush. 

Mia had ordered the spaghetti carbonara, and I’d ordered a penne with sun dried tomatoes, peppers, and a light white wine sauce. They both looked and smelled great.

One thing I loved about Gino’s was that they gave you enough food to keep you going for a week. There was no way I could ever finish the monstrous serving they gave me. That was fine . . . I loved having left overs.

The penne was great. Mia and I traded bites – a few times – and I thought hers was just as good. Yes, as far as restaurants went, we had chosen wisely.

In no time I was stuffed. I knew I shouldn’t have had all that bread. Another rookie mistake. The funny thing is, it looked like I’d barely started on my serving. And yet I was sure if I had another bite I’d explode.

I should have stopped eating sooner, but between all our talking and the wine and us just generally have a great time, well, I guess it didn’t register until I’d overdone it.

“Oh, I’m stuffed,” I complained.

Mia giggled and said, “I was wondering how you could eat that much. You’re so tiny. Where did you put it all?”

We were well into our second glass of wine now, so just like on Wednesday, the giggles had come to visit us. 

In spite of the fact that Mia and I had held hands through most of the meal, Marco had been a real professional and never let on in any way that it was out of the ordinary. I really appreciated that.

I did catch a few glances from a couple of other tables, including one with these three guys who looked like they were on their way to the Rangers game. I found them kind of annoying because they kept staring and then laughing and then looking over again. 

Mia noticed I was getting distracted. She glanced over her shoulder and seemed to read the situation immediately. She gave my hand a little squeeze to get my attention, gave me a serious look and told me, “Ignore them. Don’t let them get in your head. It’s like when you were playing sports. You can’t let other people get to you. You know there’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing. So why do you care what a bunch of jerks you don’t even know think.”

It made perfect sense. I understood what she was saying and I knew she was right. But that didn’t change the way I felt. When the table of guys got up and left I felt a little better.

We lingered a little finishing the bottle of wine, and then we paid the bill, thanked Marco, and left. Of course we didn’t leave before Marco gave us a big bag with our leftovers. He winked at me and in his adorable Italian accent said, “I put in some extra bread, just for you.” Only it sounded more like, “I puta in some extra bread, justa for you-a.” We thanked him and headed out into the night.

“Oh, I still feel stuffed,” I said. 

“I could tell,” Mia laughed, “when you turned down the gelato.”

“Maybe later,” I told her, and then I remembered and all but shouted, “Wait a minute, you still owe me ice cream.” Good thing we were out on the sidewalk by then.

Mia just laughed, we snuggled together and started down the street. It seemed my sensitivity to others staring at us came and went, because now I found myself only focused on Mia. Maybe the extra wine had helped, who know. 

It was still a nice night, and I really did want to walk off my supper, so we strolled down along the edge of a near-by park. It was a nice, slow stroll, and we talked as we went, still giggling plenty. We were arm in arm and I had my head resting on Mia’s shoulder. Everything about this felt very right. If yesterday I had been ‘walking on sunshine’, right now I was doing it, but on steroids. I felt so warm and happy, being there like that with Mia. I had a smile like I was staring at a whole herd of cute, fuzzy puppies.

After the park we cut down a quiet side street and circled back towards Gino’s. When we were almost there, Mia paused, seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then asked, “Why don’t you come back to my place?” After a beat she quickly added, “You know, to talk . . . and I could make you some coffee if you wanted . . . .” She kind of let it trail off. “Or we could just go to a Starbucks . . . you know, if you’d prefer.” 

I was just looking up at her smiling. It dawned on me she was quite nervous. I’d rarely seen her nervous like this before. 

She started talking again. “Or, if it’s getting too late . . . “ she started, but I cut her off and said, “I’d love to go to your place. And a coffee would be great.”

She stopped and looked at me. “Emily, I really don’t want to pressure you. I don’t mean to . . . and I’m sorry if I am. I just really love being with you. But if you don’t feel comfortable, please don’t do something just because you think that’s what I want. I don’t want you to resent me for pushing you too much.”

I could feel my smile growing with every word she spoke. I knew how hard this uncertainty was on me . . . I’d never really thought about how hard it must be on Mia. We seemed to have no clear boundaries. I was absolutely sure one minute and the next I was backing away. It must have been driving her crazy. So I really appreciated all she did to try and be fair to me.

To break the tension I laughed and told her, “Me . . . too shy to say what I’m thinking. Wow, you really don’t know me as well as I thought.” 

She smiled. I think she appreciated that I wasn’t making a big thing of it. I hoped it gave her confidence that I really was comfortable with things the way the were.

I added, “I think maybe you’re just inviting me back to your place so you don’t have to buy me ice cream. I hope you realize, I won’t forget about it. You can’t escape that easily.”

Mia giggled.

“And if you are planning on trying to take advantage of me once you get me to your place, you should know I have mace in my purse and I’m not afraid to use it,” I continued.

Mia was beaming now. But I wasn’t done with my silliness.

“Also, I know kung fu . . . so don’t even think about messing with me.” My mock serious look and my somewhat tipsy kung fu demonstration had Mia fully laughing. She found it especially hilarious when one of my ‘moves’ caused the big bag of leftovers I was carrying to swing wildly and whack me in the stomach. Okay, maybe I didn’t know kung fu.

I slid my arm back around Mia’s, rested my head on her shoulder and let her guide me to her apartment building. The place was maybe ten stories and looked reasonably nice. Mia led me up the front stairs and through the security door to the elevator.

“It’s kind of slow,” she told me as she pushed the elevator button. 

I didn’t mind. We just stood there waiting, facing each other, holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes. Neither one of us spoke. We stood very close to each other. Mia’s face was inches away from mine and it seemed like it was being drawn even closer, almost by some magnetic force we couldn’t see and couldn’t control. 

“I really do like you,” Mia whispered. 

I was going to respond, but then Mia drifted even closer, and I felt her lips brush ever so gently against mine. The contact was so slight but at the same time it seemed to send a shock through my body. I don’t quite know how to describe it. It left me short of breath and it seemed to make my body tingle all over. 

When I thought about it later, the one thing that stood out was that I didn’t even consider pulling away from her. I really wasn’t troubled by this very intimate contact. It felt very natural and right . . . like everything else with Mia.

Mia was the one who reacted. I saw her eyes go wide and she pulled back. She had a troubled look on her face. 

“Oh, Emily, I’m so sorry . . . “ she started, but I just smiled at her, and I think I surprised both of us when I leaned forward and planted a very soft kiss on her lips. My lips lingered there for a few long seconds. 

Just then the bell from the elevator rang, startling us. We both jumped back from each other while the doors to the elevator opened, but no one was on it. 

We quickly climbed in and Mia pushed the button for the eighth floor. As the doors slid closed we turned and looked at each other. I slid up close to her. My eyes were fixed on hers and we held each other tightly. And then our lips touched again. I don’t remember moving, and I didn’t notice Mia moving. Our lips just seemed to find each other on their own. The kisses were gentle and lingering and left me short of breath again. 

Mia was right, the elevator was slow . . . not that I was complaining. My heart was beating wildly and my head was filled with nothing but Mia and this moment and how amazingly awesome I was feeling. I couldn’t imagine possibly being happier.

When the elevator finally stopped on the eighth floor we reluctantly separated. Mia took my hand and tugged it. “Come on,” she said as she led me into the hallway. 

Her face was beaming, her eyes were sparkling and I seemed to know she was feeling just as happy as I was. She led me to her apartment, unlocked her door and pulled me inside. The second the door swung closed we were kissing again. 

We eventually paused long enough to slip off our coats and make our way to the couch in her living room. To be honest, nothing about her apartment even registered with me. I was totally focused on Mia.

We sat there on the couch for the rest of the evening – we hadn’t even turned the lights on – just sharing gentle kisses, enjoying holding each other, and talking.

“I hope this doesn’t make things more complicated for you to figure out,” Mia said as we sat there together. 

I just smiled at her. “I haven’t exactly been fighting you off,” I replied and grinned.

“With your kung fu?” she laughed. “You’ll really have to teach me some of those moves.”

I gave her a playful slap on the shoulder and said, “I don’t think you could handle my moves.”

She laughed again and said, “Try me.”

To her surprise I pounce on top of her and poked my fingers into her ribs. Mia let out a shriek and began to squirm wildly. That’s when I discovered that Mia was ticklish . . . I mean, really ticklish. 

She twisted and squirmed and tried to get away from me, but I clung to her like one of those riders at a rodeo. 

Mia was laughing uncontrollably and I wasn’t letting up. Is it kind of sadistic to keep tickling someone like that? Maybe, but it seemed I couldn’t help myself. Mia reached the point where she almost seemed desperate to get away. I really didn’t want to torture her – hey, I cared about her a lot – so I finally stopped. I just sat there while she calmed herself back down.

“See,” I said triumphantly, “you can’t handle my kung fu.” 

Mia gave me a slap on the arm and said, “No fair.” She tried to put on a big, fat lipped pout, but it lasted about two seconds before she started laughing again.

I gave her a big grin and said, “I think I’ve found your secret weakness.”

Mia didn’t seem all that pleased. “No more tickling,” she insisted.

“Sure,” I replied, but I guess she didn’t think I was being sincere (she’s no fool) because she gave me another swat. 

We sat there just grinning at each other for a minute. Finally Mia spoke. “That was kind of mean,” she said in a serious tone. Then her face softened into a warm smile and she asked, “So what are you going to do to make up for it?”

I snuggled up close to her and whispered, “How about this,” as I planted a little kiss on her cheek. Mia made a happy little sound, so I continued, kissing her lightly on the cheek and on her neck.

The kissing and hugging was obviously very intimate, but it was all very gentle and loving. There was no open mouthed, French kissing . . . and there was no groping. 

It might seem strange to say it, but at least from my side – and maybe I was in total denial – but from my side these things weren't really sexual. I don’t know what they were or how you could separate the two. Anyone looking at us – with Mia in her low cut top with her boobs very much there for me to see and me in my short skirt showing all kinds of leg – would swear we’d both gone out of our way to look sexy for the other. 

And lets be honest – if someone had told me they’d spent the night on the couch kissing and that it was totally not sexual, I’m sure I would have laughed at them and told them they were delusional. Of course I know I do ‘delusional’ all the time, so maybe that was it. I did definitely feel something quite strong for Mia, being this close and intimate with her, but I just didn’t think of it as sexual (or maybe I refused to accept it as sexual).

I know at one time I felt Mia’s hand on my leg, just above my knee, gently massaging my thigh. I put my hand on hers and move it. I had to pause and tell her, “I’m not ready for that, okay?”

She readily accepted it – she’s so wonderful – and she quite sincerely said, “Thanks for letting me know. I want you to be honest like that.” 

So I can’t say that this wasn’t in any way sexual for Mia. In fact I’m guessing it probably was. I know how I’d be feeling if I were making out like we were with someone I was really into. Wait a minute, I was making out with someone I was really into. Yes, it made very little sense. I had to stop thinking about it or my brain was going to explode. Brain exploding emoji . . . that would literally be me.

So I just went with it – the way I saw it – and enjoyed my time there with Mia, feeling happier than I thought possible.

One other time I felt Mia’s hand drifting down over my hips towards my leg. I tensed a little, but she stopped herself before she went any further. She leaned back to look at me and said, “Sorry.”

I grinned up at her. “You’re just all hands sometimes,” I teased. “You’re worse then some guys I know.”

She gave me a grin of her own and replied, “Yeah, I keep forgetting you’re a virgin.”

“Of course I am,” I’d responded, all innocently. We’d already had that conversation . . . well, in general terms . . . so Mia knew I definitely wasn’t.

Mia looked like she was thinking, and then added, “Well, you’re maybe not a virgin virgin, but I guess you’re a virgin with women.”

I found myself blushing. We were back to talking about that sex stuff . . . that ‘l’ stuff that I seemed unwilling to think about. It kept popping up, for some reason. It’s not that the idea made me queasy or uncomfortable or anything like that . . . I just didn’t seem willing to deal with it in any form.

The room was still quite dark, so I think Mia had no idea I was blushing because she kept going. “And just so you know,” she teased, “I respect your right to be a virgin . . . you know, with women . . . and I’m okay with that.”

Mia was giggling but my face felt like it was burning. 

It didn’t get better when Mia added, “I just hope you don’t stay that way forever.” She was joking . . . but probably she kind of wasn’t. 

I wasn’t sure if I should say something. Did I have to establish another boundary? What would I say? I didn’t even understand it myself, so how could I ever possibly put it into words? So I didn’t say anything. I just pulled her close and hugged her. 

That seemed to end our talking. Nicely done. That was really dealing with it like an adult. Again!

“Maybe it’s something we can talk about later,” I thought. Maybe. It did seem Mia was open to talking about anything. I just had to figure out what to say.

After a while it seemed the two of use were winding down. We just kind of lay there, snuggling together, just enjoying ourselves. Mia glanced over at the clock on her PVR and said, “Crap, it’s almost one o’clock.”

I had no idea it was that late. Actually, I really had no concept of time that whole evening. Given the wine, the long, eventful evening, and the number of late nights we’d had that week, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised we were tired.

Mia sat back and looked at me. “It’s too late to take the train,” she said. Well, it was still running, but I knew what she meant. “Did you want me to get you an Uber?” she asked quite hesitantly. When I didn’t immediately respond she quickly added, “Or you’re welcome to stay here.”

I found I liked that idea. I was a little uncertain about what she had in mind for the sleeping arrangements, though.

As if reading my mind, Mia said, “You can sleep on the couch if you want . . . .”

I think I surprised both of us when I asked, “What about your bed?”

Mia grinned, tried to hide it, and then couldn’t help herself and grinned again. “Of course. I’d love it. That would be great.”

“No getting all handsy,” I warned her with mock seriousness. “You have to keep them above the waist.”

Mia gave me a mischievous little grin and said, “So it’s okay then if I . . . you know, totally accidentally . . . grab your boobs.”

I sat back, put my hands on my hips, and tried to look as stern as possible. That was in spite of the light blush that was coloring my face again. “You behave yourself, Mia Anderson, or you’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

“What?” she asked in very overdone shock. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch?”

“Yes,” I confidently informed her. “That’s what a good hostess would do”

She laughed, and then muttered, “Maybe I’ll get you that Uber after all.”

We both laughed gently. We were running out of energy. 

When I asked if she could lend me something to sleep in, Mia told me, “I actually like to sleep ‘au naturel.’ It’s so much more comfortable. You’re welcomed to join me.” She giggled. She was obviously quite amused by herself.

When I didn’t laugh she rolled her eyes. “You get kind of grumpy when you’re tired,” she complained. She added, “Don’t worry, I’ll get you something. Will a long t-shirt do?”

“Sure,” I told her. That would do. I wondered if I should ask her about fuzzy pajamas . . . although I usually wore them more for lounging around the apartment rather than for sleeping.

She showed me to the bathroom, got me a cloth and towel to wash up, and then headed off to her bedroom. In a few minutes she came back, wearing a pajamas tank top and shorts. At least she wasn’t ‘au naturel’. 

She handed me a long light t-shirt that I thought looked quite comfortable. When she held it up I was thrilled to see it had a puppy picture on it. 

“That looks so cute,” I told her.

Mia just grinned and said, “I know. That’s why it reminded me of you.” 

I was blushing a little again, but now for a different reason. And I was smiling.

We stood there, just grinning at each other for a minute. We seemed to do a lot of that. I wasn’t complaining. 

Finally Mia said, “Let me know when you’re finished in here so I can wash up.” She pulled the door behind her, I guess so I could have some privacy. 

I finished washing quickly. Then I stripped down to my panties and slipped the t-shirt over my head. I glanced in the mirror and thought I looked quite cute in it. I’m not sure why I thought that mattered. Maybe I was getting vain. Or could there be another reason . . . ?

I also picked up a hint of Mia’s scent from the t-shirt. I definitely liked that.

I opened the bathroom door and called out that I was done. I hung around while Mia washed up. 

I was a little surprised when she opened her medicine cabinet, removed a small case, and then very carefully reached into her eye and removed contact lenses. 

I almost yelled out, “You wear contacts?” It was like she had this secret side of her that she had neglected to share with me. I’m not sure why it seemed to surprise me so much or why I was making such a big thing out of it. Maybe I really was just over tired.

I have to say, it kind of made me cringe watching her stick her fingers in her eye like that. I thought she might accidentally pull her whole eye ball out. It’s really kind of a gross thing to watch.

She quickly washed up, and then grabbed a pair of glasses that were in the medicine cabinet. She looked at me and I couldn’t help giggling.

“What,” she asked like I’d offended her.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but you look like a bit of a nerd in those things.”

Okay, maybe I was being a little mean. They didn’t look bad on her . . . she just looked different with glasses. I guess I could get use to them, though.

Mia gave me a playful little swat, told me I was mean, but then took my hand, pulled me to her and kissed me. “Not that you deserve that,” she mumbled when our lips parted. 

Without another word she led me by the hand down the hallway to her bedroom. 

I’ve got to admit, it felt a little weird, heading into the bedroom with her. It’s not like I’d never slept in a bed with another woman. I’d slept with my sister and cousins and friends. More than once in college Amy and I had ended up crashing in the same bed. 

Of course this was different. I hadn’t spent the evening cuddling and kissing with any of those women before I let them lead me off to their bed. I mean, just saying it, it had a very particular sound to it . . . like two people taking things to the next level.

Only I knew Mia wouldn’t try anything . . . not without encouragement from me. Still, I felt oddly nervous.

I guess maybe it was a good thing we were both tired. Mia pulled back the sheets and we climbed in. We held each other and talked and kissed a little, but both of us were a little low on energy. Finally Mia kissed me and said, “Sorry, I’ve got to sleep. Good night, beautiful.” 

It still made me feel all warm and happy whenever she called me that. I was thinking it was something I wouldn’t ever get tired of. I gave her a long, slow kiss, and then whispered, “Good night, Mia.” I planted another little kiss on her lips before adding, “I really do care about you . . . a lot.” 

I had to stop myself from using that other “l” word, although to be honest, that seemed to really be how I felt. 

I rolled over and Mia wrapped her arms around me. I couldn’t imagine feeling any happier or more contented. We both drifted off to sleep, cuddled up together like that, without saying another word.


	16. Chapter 16

The morning seemed to come way too quickly. I’d just closed my eyes, I swear, when I felt Mia stirring. She let out a quiet, “Shit,” and then quickly jumped out of bed. She poked me and said, “Come on, lazy, we have to get up. We’ve got spin class.”

I made a sound like probably you’d hear from a sleepy bear who didn’t want to be disturbed. I refused to open my eyes. “Still hibernating,” I thought. “Not spring yet.”

Mia pulled the sheets back and poked me again. “Come on, Emily, we’ve got to move it,” 

I just hugged my pillow and refused to face the day.

That’s when Mia landed a hard smack right on my bottom, as she yelled (I’m sure) “Move it. You don’t get to miss my spin class.”

That made me jump up. I looked at her and rubbed my bottom. “So that’s how it is,” I said woefully. “Physical abuse when you don’t get your way.”

Mia gave me a little smile. “Sorry,” she said (yeah sure). Her smile grew until it filled her whole face. She crawled across the bed until she was right in front of me, and asked, “What can I do to make it up to you?” 

I found I felt a little nervous and suddenly self-conscious. I sort of mumbled, “I don’t know.” My mind was still waking up and I didn’t seem at all sure about myself. 

But before I could shake that numb brain, Mia whispered, “How about this,” and gave me a soft, lingering kiss. 

I lay there, feeling her lips on mine, remembering all the times we’d kissed the night before, and feeling that same closeness and warmth. But I was feeling something else, too. I was feeling a little unsure of myself. I was feeling, maybe, a little . . . guilty . . . or something. 

Like maybe this wasn’t totally okay. 

I know we’ve all had that experience. When you’ve done something (or someone!) and at the time it seemed so right and perfect. But then in the morning, when maybe your heads is a little clearer, you start to question yourself and wonder what you were thinking.

I really didn’t have these huge regrets about what had happened the night before between Mia and myself. I was just a little less certain about it. 

“God, was I ever going to figure this out,” I wondered. I was sure I had it decided last night. Now I really wasn’t. How was I going to tell Mia this? She was going to toss me out of her place and tell me she was through with me and that she never wanted to see me again. And I

Mia glanced at the clock again, swore under her breath and jumped back up off the bed. She was clearly distracted and didn’t see the uncertainty that I’m sure was all over my face.

“We don’t have much time. We’ve got to get going,” she said.

She start to head out of the room when something dawned on me. “I don’t have my work out stuff with me,” I said a little sheepishly, “and I don’t have time to go home and get them.” I felt bad to be piling on to Mia when she was already kind of stressed.

She froze in the doorway, and I thought I heard an exasperated little sigh from her. She took a deep breath to calm herself and then turned back to into the room

She went over to her dresser, dug through it a bit and grabbed a couple of items that she tossed to me. There was a pair of ¾ length work out pants and a matching sports bra top. “That top always fit snug on me, so probably it will fit you,” she told me. 

I picked them up and looked at them. That’s when I realized that Mia was changing . . . right there. 

I glanced over. She had her back to me, but her top was off and she was sliding down her shorts. I quickly looked away, feeling almost a little embarrassed. At the same time my brains was say, “That’s stupid. It’s not like you haven’t seen a woman changing. You see that all the time at the gym or at the pool. What’s the big deal?”

Of course, with her perfect timing, Druzilla piped up, “Yeah, but you’re not sleeping with any of those women. Hmm, she does have a nice body, doesn’t she. Are you sure you don’t want to take another look? Hate to miss a prime opportunity like this.” 

How do you strangle an imaginary voice in your head? I really wanted to know.

I turned my back almost as some guilty reflex. Then I was hit with another thought. “Was I supposed to do the same, right here, with Mia just across the room from me?” Again, I thought, “What’s the big deal,” but I knew, at least to me, the way I was feeling, it was a big deal. 

I didn’t have to worry though, because when Mia was done dressing she hurried out of the room with only the passing plea, “Come on, Emily. Would you hurry.”

I glanced at the clock and it was twenty to nine. The class was at nine thirty, so we really didn’t have a lot of time.

As soon as Mia left I peeled off the t-shirt and pulled on the pants and the sports bra. They actually fit not too badly. I glanced at myself in the full length mirror Mia had on her wall. That was when Mia returned to the room. 

She looked over at me and said, “Yeah, you look gorgeous. Now enough admiring yourself and lets get moving. I ordered an Uber and I lucked out. One should be here in about ten minutes. That should get us there in time.”

“Um, you don’t have a top or a t-shirt or something I could wear . . . you know, over the sports bra,” I asked almost shyly.

Mia stopped and looked at me. “Why?” she asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. “That looks like it fits you pretty good.” She gave me a little smile before adding, “Actually, you look really good in that.” And then almost to herself, “Better than those baggy shorts and t-shirt you wore last week.”

I always wore my baggy shorts and t-shirts to work out. I’d been wearing baggy shorts and t-shirts for as long as I could remember. For soccer, basketball, track . . . I’d always liked my loose fitting clothes. I guess it had just become a thing with me. 

Mia was right, it’s not like I didn’t look fine in just the bra and tights. I had a pretty flat tummy that didn’t look too embarrassing. And it’s not like I’d be the only woman at the gym showing a bare belly. There were plenty that showed a lot more. Like Mia, for instance. She had the bare tummy . . . and the boobs that were less than fully hidden in her top. 

For me, I guess it was just what I was use to . . .and comfortable with. 

Mia looked like she wanted to ask another question, but after glancing at the clock she just rolled her eyes, went to a drawer and found a top for me, plus some socks. She lent me a pair of shoes too that were about a size and a half too big. Good thing we were biking and not running.

When the Uber pulled up, we were just rushing down the steps from the apartment. We piled into the back and Mia gave him the address. 

As we took off, Mia took hold of my hand, squeezed it, and said, “Sorry I was such a bag. I just didn’t want to be late for the class. It doesn’t look good, and I like teaching these classes.” She gave me a big smile, leaned in and gave me a little kiss on the cheek. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later,” she whispered in my ear.

I was conscious of the driver glancing back at us in the rear-view mirror. I was sure I could read his mind . . . “Yeah, hot lesbian chic’s in the back seat making out. Score!”

I caught him glancing our way a number of times. Or was he possibly just checking the mirror for traffic? Maybe . . . but I was feeling surprisingly self conscious. 

When Mia snuggled up close to me and rested her head on my shoulder I shifted away a little without even thinking about it. She looked at me, a little surprised.

I did my best to cover up. “Uh, do you have an elastic . . . for my hair. I like to tie it back, you know, for class.”

Mia held her eyes on me for a few long seconds before she finally said, “Yeah, I think I have one in my bag.” 

She dug out an elastic and I took my time pulling my hair into a pony tail and tying it back. 

I wasn’t sure why I was acting so weird. Just some more of my natural crazy showing itself. But it left me feeling very tense and a little uncomfortable. 

Mia was being unusually quiet, and that wasn’t helping my tension. She still had my hand, so I gave hers a little squeeze and I did my best to give her a reassuring smile.

She returned an uncertain little smile and then said, “Sorry, just thinking about the class . . . trying to get myself ready for it.” She made another attempt at a smile, but it wasn’t near up to her usual standard. Then she turned away and stared out the window. She seemed deep in thought.

I found myself looking out my window. We didn’t say another word until the car pulled into a parking spot about half a block down from the fitness center.

When we got out, Mia looked at me, and then tentatively took my hand. 

I let her, but I had to admit, my heart was beating loudly and I felt surprisingly nervous. 

“What the hell is going on,” I wanted to scream at myself. How long had we walked, holding hands and with me draped on her shoulder the night before? That hadn’t bothered me one bit. Now, all of a sudden I was feeling self-conscious and unsure. I needed to get a grip.

I could tell Mia was reading my nervousness. I’m sure she was just as confused as I was. She kept sneaking little glances at me as we hurried towards the doors to the fitness center.

When we were ten yards from the door I looked up the street. I saw three young guys heading our way, and just as I spotted them it seemed one of them spotted me and Mia.

The guy suddenly elbowed his friends and said something. They all looked our way. They started laughing in that way guys do when they’re sharing a raunchy joke. I heard one of them say something about “fucking dykes,” and then they all burst out laughing again.

I felt Mia’s hand tighten on mine as she pulled me those last few yards to the door and then into the building. I was almost shaking I was feeling so upset, and I was praying the guys weren’t coming to the fitness center as well. Thank God they passed by, but they gawked at us through the door as they did, and I could hear more laughing and loud chatter from them.

I was standing there, almost in a daze. Mia was looking at me, and I could see the concern on her face. I couldn’t remember feeling that upset, maybe ever. I felt hot tears rolling down my cheeks as I started to sob.

“It’s okay,” Mia told me. “They’re just a bunch of jerks. Who cares what they think. They don’t know us . . . they don’t know you.”

“But wasn’t that part of the problem,” I wanted to scream. It seemed I didn’t know me either. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself, and I let Mia wipe away my tears. 

I looked up at her and tried to smile. “Thanks,” I said. I really did appreciate all she was trying to do. But it wasn’t her . . . it was me who had to figure things out.

“You’d better get in there and get ready for the class,” I told her. “You don’t want to be late.”

It was nice that she seemed reluctant to go, but I assured her that I would be alright. I said that I just needed a minute. I told her I would be in to the class before it started. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure about that, but I didn’t want to hold her up.

She gave me a quick hug and some more reassurances, and then headed in to the fitness center. She paused at the door to glance back at me and then she was gone.

For a moment I thought I might break down again and start crying. No more being strong just for Mia. For a moment I considered just leaving and going home. “Was I over-reacting?” I wondered. Of course I was over-reacting. But that didn’t mean the way I was feeling wasn’t real.

How did I go from all that happiness and joy the night before with Mia to this? It seemed crazy. Yeah, that word seemed to pop up a lot when I tried to understand myself.

A couple more people came into the building and they seemed to give me a bit of a sideways glance as they passed. It was probably obvious I’d been crying and I’m sure I still looked dazed. Yeah, that wasn’t doing much for my confidence.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax a bit. I took a few deep breaths. Maybe I could find that Zen place, where all was calm and peaceful. Yeah, no hope of that. I had too many thoughts bouncing around in my head.

I was back to, do I stay or do I go. I really, really wanted to go. I really wanted to rush home and crawl under my covers and hide there all day. But I didn’t. I took a final deep breath, gave my eyes a wipe and headed into the gym.


End file.
